By Royal Command
by Wynja
Summary: With what do you bribe the royalty who has everything? Why, with a beautiful, sexy slave, of course… Master/slave, AU, Sladin (slash)
1. Don't Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

Disclaimer: I don't own the canon characters, of course (useless to have a disclaimer on a fan fiction site, but still) and the title to this story also happens to be the title of the fifth novel in the Young Bond series, by Charlie Higson. I very much enjoy his writing so this is a bit of an tribute to him, but at the same time it fits this story so perfectly. There is **no** further relationship between his book and this story, though!

A/N: welcome to my new chaptered story! This is actually based on a prompt by **Bacontheft**

who was reviewer number 3000 for Delightful Drabbles… but I felt this prompt deserved to be chaptered.

This is an very **AU story**, like Precious Gift was, and in that light, I'd like to ask you to read it as an original story, really, just as I asked of you with Precious Gift. It is set in about the same type of fake historical setting, but that's where the likeness ends. You SHOULD be prepared that that makes the characters OOC, though, as they don't share the same history as the canon ones… there will also be character development (because of reasons… and time passing) so the Slade and Robin you meet in this first chapter might seem different in the last…;)

It's is also a **Master/Slave** story. The darkness-level, however, is not that 'bad' I'd say ABOUT 2060-ish, maybe, at the _most_. Or more Black Sheep. You'll be FINE!

So, in short: "warning" for AU, OOC-ness, Master/Slave and maybe some murky parts in the story line. Oh, and of course it's slash.

More notes on this world will follow… and feel free to ask!

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 1: Don't Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth**

The prince and heir to the kingdom of Gotham was reclining in his seat in his own throne room, looking bored. Very few issues came his way, most of it was taken care of in the _official_ throne room by his adoptive father, the King. Robin usually didn't mind, official business was serious and boring anyway.

Ignoring the person standing in front of him talking, the Prince's blue eyes wandered over the walls of the room. After resting briefly on the beautiful tapestries in warm colors, highlighted with gold thread, depicting hunting scenes and old wars. Then his gaze moved on to his own coat of arms and then across to the other wall with the row of high, narrow windows looking out over the city which surrounded the castle on three sides. His eyes lifted slightly to the countryside beyond. On really clear days you could see the snow glistening on the peaks of the northern mountains from this room.

"Your highness, your answer?" the Prince's valet, Alfred Pennyworth, asked him quietly with a small cough. The valet had served the King, Bruce the First, until his advancing age had gotten him demoted to tend to the Prince. The old man didn't mind too much, however, and Robin himself liked him, although he could be quite annoying when it came to things like duties and rules.

The prince's eyes landed on the man in front of him again, who, apparently, had finished talking.

"I will think it over. Come back for your answer tomorrow," Robin said with a dismissive wave. He had no idea what the subject had even been about.

"But, Your Highness-"

"You are dismissed!" The prince's eyes had hardened and gotten colder, and the man took the hint and grudgingly left, although the look on his face was that of a dark scowl.

Robin just snorted quietly at the retreating back.

"Your Highness has already sent him away two times," Alfred told him quietly.

"I have?"

"Yes, My Lord. If I may say so, treating your tasks with this amount of indifference will not gain you any favors with the King."

"Yeah, well, he can take his favors and-"

"Your Highness!"

"Yes, yes, Alfred. I know. It's just so _boring_. So what's the next point on the agenda, then?"

"A tradesman from the north wants to offer you a gift."

"Oh, well, things just became a lot more interesting," Robin grinned and sat up straighter. "Bring him in."

The man who entered was a wiry, elderly gentleman with a neat moustache, but Robin wasn't watching_ him_ for more than a second. On a leash fastened to a simple iron ring collar, the trader led a huge, half naked man, who moved with a confidence the young prince had never seen before. The collared man's muscles gleamed, his skin most likely oiled to get that effect, but he scarcely needed it; Robin hadn't seen perfection like that among any of the country's soldiers or athletes. Not even the King, who was known for his skill in the region's fighting games, had muscles like that. The man's face sported the only blemish; he must have lost an eye at some point as it was covered by a black leather patch. His hair and short, trimmed beard, was stunningly white, and, even though the angled features by no means belonged to a youngster, the prince didn't think that the color came from age and, in fact, was natural. He was a man of the mountains, after all, as was his master, and Robin had heard stories of those people's exotic looks, even though he had rarely met any. The truce between the countries had been tense as many wars between the nations littered the history books. The peace had been kept for almost eighty years now, however, but the countries barely traded with each other, at least caravans seldom came this far south.

"Your Royal Highness, it is a true honor," the tradesman said, bowing. Robin's eyes snapped to him. He probably should pay attention this time.

"Trader," he nodded stiffly. "I wasn't told your name?"

"It's Wintergreen, My Lord, William Wintergreen."

"And what is your business here, Trader Wintergreen?" the prince asked.

"I'm here simply to present you with a gift… and ask you a favor, Your Highness."

"Of course you are. Very few gifts are free, after all," the prince smirked, and, for the briefest of moments, he thought he could see a small grin pass over the slave's face as well. "Very well, let's start with the favor? What is it?"

"I'm the head of a quite large trade caravan. I would like to ask your permission to camp by the river and present our trade to the people of this beautiful city, My Lord. I was told that I need a royal approval for this."

Robin nodded, the man did, although it was usually the King who took care of foreign traders like these.

"I see, well, that is a favor I might be willing to grant you. I warn you, however, if I should hear of any trouble…"

"There will be none, I assure you. I have a list of cities we have visited, please send word to them if you need reassurance of our conduct. I also have recommendation letters from the dukes of Blackgate and Sprang River, both of which we have visited this past two months," the man said, producing a bunch of papers. Robin gestured for his valet to take them but didn't pay them any more mind, he didn't really like these particular dukes, so he almost wished the traders _would_ misbehave so he had an opportunity to ridicule these men.

"What do you trade in?" he asked, mostly feigning interest.

"Metalwork, My Lord. The mountains are famous for it. We carry everything from household items to the finest blades Blüdhaven, and therefore the world, has ever seen. We also sharpen and polish steel and-"

"Very well." Robin raised a hand as he had heard enough. "I might visit you to see these blades you brag about, I have heard about the sword smiths of the north, after all. And about this gift?"

The man gestured to the collared man like Robin hadn't already seen him, and smiled proudly.

"The best slave I could find, My Lord."

"I didn't know the north traded with slaves," Robin said, arching an eyebrow. He smirked to himself when he saw obvious surprise at his knowledge flash over the trader's face. It was just something he had overheard another nobleman say once, but the man didn't need to know that.

"As a rule, no, My Lord, Blüdhaven does not, at least not as much as some other countries," the man nodded. Gotham was not one of them. Slaves were not uncommon, and it wasn't illegal to buy one, or, in fact, sell yourself or your family into slavery. There were even rules and contracts one could make up for a set numbers of years to serve. Many lower servants and workers were slaves, getting paid only in room and board and whatever their masters might bestow upon them. Further south, however, the prince had heard that the slave business were much crueler and widely spread. But that was what could be expected of savages, after all…

"What is he? A body guard?" the prince asked.

"He can most certainly defend his Master and also teach fighting techniques, but he is skilled in more… _personal_ tasks as well..."

Robin's cheeks tinted just a little. "A bedroom slave?"

"Yes, My Lord. And he can give massages as well. In short, he can protect you and pleasure you, as you wish, and he won't disappoint in either area."

"I see." Robin tried to fight his own embarrassment. He had heard of bedroom slaves, although he had never owned one. The King had not forbidden him from it, but did not keep one himself, so the Prince, even at his peak of curiosity about these matters, had never found an opening to peruse the matter. And now that opportunity was standing before him… and there was quite a lot of it. "Does he have a contract?"

"No, he is yours as long you desire, Your Highness, and then you are free to reassign him, sell him or set him free, as it pleases you."

"Very well, I accept your gift," Robin nodded benevolently. "In spite of his defect and age." This seemed to please the trader, who also looked like he was about to laugh for some reason.

"Your Highness, may I remind you that you have an appointment this afternoon?" his valet then told him.

"Ah, yes." The young noble didn't really have an appointment as such, he was just going riding, and now he almost wanted to cancel. However, he couldn't let the trader, or the slave for that sake, know how much this gift thrilled him. "Alfred, would you get Trader Wintergreen the permits he needs? Good." The prince rose from his throne and descended the few steps to inspect his gift closer. The man seemed even bigger from this angle, looming over him. His nakedness was a bit distracting; the young man was used to be surrounded by fully dressed, often extravagantly dressed, people after all. Today he himself was wearing a white shirt with short ruffles at the wrists, and a silk stock tie. Over the shirt he wore a black waistcoat and over that a long red coat, embroidered with a gold trim. It was narrow at the waist and flared out slightly below it, reaching the middle of his thighs. As he had planned to go riding he had chosen one that had a long slit at the back, so it fell on either side of him as he straddled the horse. His off-white breeches, which reached his knees, were tailored to perfection, and fitted snugly around his legs. Knee high silk stockings covered the rest of his feet and he wore flat, black leather shoes adorned with large silver buckles. His boots, which he would change into for the ride, were kept at the stables.

Other men, like the trader and Alfred, were dressed in similar, but much simpler attire, often in coarser materials and duller colors, without much embellishment, so the slave stood out quite badly.

"He _can_ speak, I assume?" Robin asked the trader. "He understands the language?"

"Of course, My Lord, but he would never do so out of turn. He's very well trained."

"Good. I expect nothing but obedience. Slave, what is your name?" the Prince asked, bright blue eyes meeting a single slate grey one.

"Slade, Master," the man answered, his voice so deep that it felt like it made Robin's chest vibrate.

"Slade? I see. Mountain name?"

"Yes, Master," the man answered again. His voice didn't seem hostile at all, which was good, but Robin wasn't sure he liked the hint of amusement in it.

"You are healthy, I assume? Turn around for me. Are your teeth in good condition?" As he had never inspected a slave before, the prince had decided to go about things like he was looking to buy a horse. Without the test ride, of course. The man's hair was short, which was not the style of the time. Robin's own black locks reached a bit below his shoulders and was tied back with a black satin bow at the nape of his neck. After not finding any more faults, he nodded. "Good. Alfred, have servants take him to my rooms, bring him food and water should he ask for it, and prepare a bath for him as well… he passed my inspection, but he could do with a wash."

"You don't want me to remove my loincloth for the inspection as well, Master?" the slave asked, still with that half amused tone in his voice.

"No, why in the world would I be interested in your genitals?" the prince snorted, looking astonished at the very thought. "You will behave yourself. I will be back in two hours."

"Forgive me, My Lord, the slave has a small trunk with a few belongings; a change of clothes and grooming products, which we left outside, could that be picked up as well?"

"Of course," Robin said, already walking towards the doors. "Alfred's your man, he'll make all the arrangements."

"I'll get the documents, if you would please wait here, Sir?" Alfred said and, after a nod, left as well.

"Why _wouldn't_ he be interested in my genitals?" the slave asked as soon as the door closed.

"Slade, you know I'm glad that you are my king, but sometimes I want to slap your head," the so called trader sighed.

"You had the perfect opportunity when they were still in the room," the muscular man smirked. "Well? Why wasn't he even curious?"

"Well…" the wiry man almost squirmed. "You know when we came up with this plan, and I suggested you'd be a bedroom slave, and you refused?"

"Yes, I'm here to take over the country, not getting fucked."

"Exactly, but then I told you about the custom here which says that a male member of a royal, or high ranking, family shouldn't spill his seed inside anyone but his wife, apart from during the act of fellatio, which is completely acceptable. Women are likewise forbidden to let anything inside them below the waist."

"Yes, I know, and I had you double-check so it applied to male concubines as well," the slave grunted.

"Yes, well… I might have forgotten to tell you that _you're _not to come inside _him_ either. Any such act is deemed too intimate to be acceptable amongst unmarried nobility."

"_What_?"

"He wasn't interested in your… in your manhood, simply because you won't be using it around him."

"And all I was thinking about for the last ten minutes was that I'd like to fuck him. Hard. Preferably tied down and gagged."

"I can imagine, Sir."

"Well, did you _see_ his ass peeking out under that riding jacket?"

"What would your late wife, Queen Adeline, say if she heard you now?" the northern King's closest man sighed, shaking his head.

"She would have asked if I'd share him."

"And would you?"

"I loved my wife!" Slade proclaimed. "… I would at least have _considered_ it…"

"Not surprising… Didn't you find the prince a bit… arrogant?"

"Of course, but this is Gotham, after all, the place is_ crawling_ with useless, snooty nobility, but that's why it will be easy to take. All we need is more inside information, and being this close to the Prince will get me that. Besides, he's a cute little thing. Will you bet me that I get to fuck him despite those rules?"

"No! Slade, My Lord, please hold to the plan and forget about your balls for once, will you?"

"It's _my_ plan, trust me, I'll stick to it, but it's hardly challenging enough. So no bet, then? Pity. Well, I will have to do it for amusement, then."

"As you wish, Sir, just be careful and don't get too attached to him… you know that he can't be allowed to live, once this is over."

"I won't. He might be cute, but thankfully he's as charming as a small yipping dog. I'll enjoy fucking him and cutting his throat equally, I suspect."

"That would be like you," the other man smirked. "Now, if you should get recognized-"

"Don't be such a mother hen. I always wear my helmet and visor in Blüdhaven, even in court. Very few have seen me without it, and not one of them has been foreigners… No one apart from the closest circle even know my birth name."

"Well, that was handy. I think a slave called 'Deathstroke' would have been suspicious," the other man chuckled.

"Somewhat, yes," Slade smirked.

"I'll have a runner posted right outside the castle at all times if you need to send a message."

"Good. Other than that, I'll contact you when it is time," Slade said and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "The men are in your hands. Keep them well trained and ready, but don't forget to keep the trade rouse up. If this goes well, Gotham will be ours within three months at the most."

Wintergreen nodded and then the door opened, making the men fall back in their respective roles once more.

* * *

Robin loved riding. He had picked one of his newer horses, a palomino colored stallion who was still young enough to have that slightly long-legged, awkward look.

On the back of a horse he could just be… him. And the animal didn't obey him because he was a prince; he'd better know what he was doing or he was going to be thrown face first into the dust. The horse wasn't impressed with titles and power, and, on one level, Robin liked that. He was spoiled, he knew he was, pampered since Bruce had adopted him as a baby, but not, however, spoiled when it came to human contact; just things. Sometimes he bitterly wondered why Bruce _had_ taken him in, because the King paid very little attention to him. Robin's earliest days were actually shrouded in mystery; no one had ever told him anything about how he came to the castle, not even when he had asked Bruce had he gotten any answers except that he was 'found'. Still, everything melted away when he was on horseback.

He left the castle courtyard by the back gate. The city hadn't stretched here, and the land was kept as pasture for sheep and goats, as the ground was quite stony and the grazing too lean for bigger animals. It had served as a place to ride for generations, however, and was crisscrossed with cleared, smooth paths leading all the way up into the slowly rising hills behind the capital city. Robin let the fidgety horse stretch out in a smooth gallop, giving it leeway to set the pace while still being in control.

As the ride came to an end and the castle and city came into view again, however, the troublesome thoughts returned. Robin wanted desperately to please his 'father', so the man would be proud of him, but how, as Bruce never _saw_ him? He was deep into his thoughts, and didn't realize that he was gripping the reins too tightly before the horse suddenly stopped dead and then bolted.

There was nothing the prince could do as he flew off his steed in a wide arch and crashed onto the ground, shoulder first. He lay still for a moment, getting his breath back, but was then able to, while grimacing a bit, climb to his feet on his own. He was bruised, but nothing more. Luckily he hadn't flown head first into a rock. The horse hadn't made a run for it, but it looked quite displeased when Robin walked up and grabbed the reins again.

"I'm sorry, Dax, I forgot myself. I know you have a sensitive mouth," he told the stallion and stroked the horse's muzzle and neck until a huff of warm air told him he was forgiven. For now. Robin grinned as he sat up again. Why couldn't people be like animals? Why couldn't he act like this around the court? But he couldn't. He was a prince. Royalty. And if Bruce had taught him anything, it was to never forget that, never let others get too close, always be on guard. The young prince sighed and motioned for the horse to move, taking it slower now. Apart from the fact that he would have a slave waiting for him, he was in no hurry to go back.

* * *

Slade looked around the large, luscious bedroom. As a king he was used to prosperity and luxury, however, so he was hardly impressed. The servants who had prepared his bath for him, in a large copper tub which they had filled surprisingly quickly using an invention they told him the king himself had come up with, had been courteous enough, and Slade had pulled out all his charms. It was not the noblemen that he would need in this quest as much as the servants and fellow slaves. He had taken a bath and redressed in his loincloth, which was clean, after all, as he had only put it on for the first time this morning. He remembered having to wait for Wintergreen to stop laughing at him. He had also studied the bath-invention, which, as far as he had understood it, was made up by several very large metal containers on every floor which the servants kept full of water from the well, and then kept a fire burning under. The fire was not hot enough for the water to boil, apparently that was very bad, Slade had understood, which they had figured out on the experimental stage. Now it seemed to work though, and gave the household hot water in an instant. In the Prince's case, pipes even led directly to the bath from the container, so the servants didn't have to carry it in buckets.

After that discovery, which Slade had every intention on copying in his own castle, he had found himself with nothing to do. He had wandered the prince's private rooms, which consisted of a large and airy reception room, one room that seemed to be designated for councils and other meetings, a study and then the bedroom. The colors were mostly crème and light blues, a change from the dark woods and murky shades he had seen throughout the rest of the castle. The furniture was also less dumpty, and the decorations were not cluttering the space, although those that were there were delicately displayed and seemed to be of the highest quality. All in all, the rooms gave the impression that they belonged to someone young, though they were in no way juvenile, and Slade wondered if this was the prince's own taste or that of a decorator.

He had been provided with a small cot in a corner of the bedroom for now, as the servants seemed to be unsure of where he was supposed to sleep, and he had to stay in the rooms, according to his 'master's' orders. Fortunately he didn't have to wait long. Suddenly the door opened and the prince came in, walking a bit stiffly and his side was covered in dust. He even had a grass straw in his hair.

"Master, did something happen?" Slade found himself forced to ask, making sure there was concern in his voice. He didn't expect the grin he got back. It was short and cut off, like the young man suddenly remembered himself, and it ended with a little sniff.

"The horse threw me, slave. It was my fault."

"I'll draw you a bath, if you wish, My Lord?" the man nodded, somewhat thrown. That smile was something he had never expected from a Gotham nobleman and not the admission of responsibility either. It was told, in his country, that the reason that the wars lasted for so long was that the Gotham royalty simply refused to admit that they had been beaten. In the end there had been a settlement, mostly because the Blüdhaven king at that time, Slade's great grandfather, had been old. His sons had bickered for the crown, and a country couldn't both focus on a war and internal strife at the same time. Now, however, it was time to finish what they had started. For a second, though, the prince had almost looked like he had a heart, and maybe, a brain as well. Ah, well, it might have been a coincidence, or a trick of the light.

* * *

At the slave's offer of a bath, Robin looked around at him in surprise.

"You've learned how? Very well then, I do need one." He went to a wall where several tassels hung and pulled one. These summoned different servants, through an intricate system of strings and bells, for whatever he could possibly need, like food, a bath or new wood on the fire for example. He had just called for Alfred, making the bell marked with his name, ring. Most bells, apart from the kitchen's, were located in the servant's hall, where they all were gathered between duties, unless they had free time. There was always a runner, one of the younger lads, present to make sure the message got received, in case the summoned party wasn't nearby.

In this case Alfred must have been in the hall, however, because he appeared at the door before the slave had finished with the bath.

"Your Highness?" he said as he entered. "What happened?" he added when he saw the dirty coat.

"Oh, Dax threw me," the prince shrugged, wincing slightly as he did so, as he was reminded of the pain in his shoulder. There would be a big bruise there by tomorrow. "But no matter, I wanted to talk to you about clothes for the slave. He needs something more appropriate."

"Very good, My Lord, would you like to see him in a tunic, perhaps, with breeches? Or something more… elaborate?"

"If will do for now, but I want to see the tailor tomorrow. He might have some ideas. He's mine, after all, I can't have him look like a farmer, but on the other hand, he's a slave… I'm not sure what the protocol is here…"

"For bedroom slaves? I dare to say they seldom wear much…" the old man said wryly, dropping the honorary titles, as he tended to do in private, to a certain extent, of course. Robin quite liked that, it almost made him relax. Even though Alfred had been the king's valet, he had been the one to oversee the prince's upbringing and education, and of everyone in the castle, Robin knew and trusted him the most.

"Alfred!" he half gasped, half chuckled. "I'm not sure I want people to… _know_…"

"A bit late for that, I'm afraid," the valet said as he began helping the young man undress. This was usually one of his duties to the prince. Robin had been dressed and undressed by people all his life, either fully or at least partially, and he didn't feel embarrassed. It was just a routine that happened practically every day; men and women of noble birth weren't expected to tend to their clothes and hair by themselves. He glanced into the bathroom, though, and felt a bit self conscious, as the man in there was supposed to… well.. pleasure him. He then shrugged that feeling off and turned his attention back to what Alfred was saying. "The gossip is already running through the castle like wildfire. However, you can dress and treat him as a body guard in public. After all, your eighteenth birthday is coming up, and that might mean that the amount of threats against your person rises."

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

"And about the celebrations…"

"Alfred, that's two months away!"

"Still there is a lot of preparation underway. We'll go through some details tomorrow. Also, you have received some more offers of marriage, some of them might even be worth considering."

"Wonderful, more misleading portraits."

"Your highness," the valet warned him.

"Well, I have actually _met_ the Baroness of Arkham, but they seemed to have forgotten that when they had that picture painted. With much less paint than an accurate portrait would have acquired, I might add," the prince snorted, as Alfred removed the last of his clothes.

* * *

Slade, who had overheard the conversation, and actually enjoyed it, had finished the bath and went to the door to let the prince know.

"Master, the bath is… ready." The war-hardened king couldn't quite help losing his train of thought, and thus stumbling somewhat on his words, as he saw the vision in front of him. Milk pale but healthy skin, long limbs which had enough muscle tone to show that the prince didn't spend_ all_ his days on his throne, and the hair, now free of its satin bow, cascaded down his shoulders, with a slight curl to it, giving it even more life than the stunning black color. The breeches hadn't lied either; below a trim waist was, may his late wife forgive him, the most perfect bottom he had ever seen. He started to worry that his loincloth might not be able to hide his interest for long. Happily, in a way, the prince took care of his libido by hurting his pride.

"Ah, there you are, slave. Say, what was your name again?"

_To Be Continued…._

* * *

A/N: If you're not fond of certain personality traits when it comes to Slade and Robin, please stick around and have a bit of patience. They might not seem like people you would want to hang around, but trust me in this, okay? ;)

Special thank you to **Tinclay **who helped me decide on a name for Slade's kingdom: Blüdhaven, and also other places which will be mentioned later.

About the names of the countries, cities, locations, and so on, yes, they are taken from the canon universe, but should be seen more like a wink to the canon-verse than taken seriously at all. It's just a detail which I find 'fun' in a way, because I possess no sense of humor, probably… All the main characters were presented/mentioned in this chapter, so don't expect the Titans to show up; I'm not fond of cramming characters into a story just because they appear in the canon universe, unless they have a clear role to play. That feels forced to me, so you will have to deal with 'back ground OC's" instead. One or two might have some resemblance to real characters, but again, it's only for my own amusement. Actually, this whole story is very much "Wynja enjoys herself" and I HOPE that will mean that it will be a good story. Now, I know not all of you will accept the AU-ness, because that's not your cup of tea, which I respect, but I hope the rest of you will give it a try…

If you are very interested in history, you might have noticed that the fashion is from the 1750-1775 era BUT that doesn't mean everything will be compatible to that era; it's a FAKE historical setting in an alternative universe to ours, after all. Simply put: I make stuff up, and you have no right to yell at me for it… ;)

If you have any questions about this world at all, let me know! If I haven't already written an explanation in a future chapter, I'll include one.

This story will be updated once a week, most likely on Sundays.

EDIT: thank you to **Monster of Cookies **who helped me edit this chapter**!**


	2. A Colt is Worth Little if it Does Not Br

A/N: The first chapter had such long A/N's that I saved this one for now: Thank you to **Monster of Cookies**for giving me a link to a page where I will most likely get many of my chapter titles from. I have decided to give them names of sayings, preferably (but maybe not only) involving horses. Not that this story is a horse-story, but there are elements… ;) Just an inane thing I do… let me?

I'm also trying out something where those in my facebok group, if interested, gets to edit a chapter each. This chapter was edited by **Reizo My, **thank you! (And thank you **Monster of Cookies **for editing the last chapter after it was uploaded!). All remaining mistakes are MINE and you can't have them! -holds on tightly-

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 2: A Colt is Worth Little if it Does Not Break its Halter**

Robin sighed in bliss as he sank down into the hot water. The slave, Slade, he reminded himself, had offered to help him bathe. Robin had accepted, releasing Alfred of his duties for the evening as the old man would have stayed and helped otherwise. After preparing the prince's informal evening wear and night shirt, as well as arranging for dinner to be taken to his rooms, the valet left, bidding goodnight. Robin entertained the thought of training Slade as a valet; after all, Alfred wouldn't be able to keep the job up forever. He jumped slightly as the washcloth came in contact with his tender shoulder.

"I apologize, Master."

"Not to worry, just be careful in that area," the prince told him. "So, Slade… what is it like, being a slave?" As soon as he had asked it, Robin realized what an idiotic, and most likely very inappropriate, question that was, and wanted to take it back. The man, however, just chuckled before answering.

"For someone like me it's an easy life, Master. My former masters and mistresses quite liked my services, and I enjoyed my duties."

"Um… yes… I… can imagine," Robin mumbled, glad the heat of the water masked his blush.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Master. Not all the services I provide are sexual. Weapons training, for example, has been another enjoyable duty of mine."

"What kind of weapons?"

"_Any_ kind, Master."

"My fencing tutor is rather useless, he seems to think the sword is something to be waved around prettily instead of a weapon. Maybe you can change his mind?"

"It would be my honor, Master," Slade smirked behind the young man's back.

"Good. Now, I think I'm ready to get dressed," the prince said and held a hand out for the slave to help him up. Slade had regained some control of himself, but seeing the naked body now dripping with water renewed the interest. Not fully, of course, the man had better self control now, but he had decided what he wanted and he was going to have it, and, because of that, his body played along.

"What are you just standing around for, fetch a towel!" Robin eventually snapped.

"Of course, I apologize, My Lord," Slade mumbled, cursing both himself and the little black haired temptation below his breath. He _would _have some fun with this one, before he had to die, one way or the other.

The prince found himself in the new position of having to instruct a servant how to dress him. He assumed it was only to be expected, but wondered if Alfred would be willing to tutor the man, because it got very awkward when the slave kneeled to roll up the prince's socks without helping him into his breeches first.

"No, not the waistcoat," the young man said dismissingly. "I will stay in for the rest of the evening and I'm not expecting company. Alfred tries to insist that I'm half naked without it."

"If you don't mind me saying so, Master, that is not such an appalling thought," the slave smirked.

"Well, I _do_ mind," Robin snapped. He had gotten embarrassed again, and he hated that feeling. Besides, the man was a _slave_; he had no right being so cheeky. "Keep remarks like that to yourself." A knocking was heard, coming from the outer door to the quarters. "Ah, the dinner has arrived, go set it up and ask the servant to wait for me," he said, sending the man out of sight for now. The prince bound his still damp hair back, although his valet would never have approved the sloppy work, and then took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Slade was merely a new horse, he would get used to him, figure him out, and, if not, he could always sell him. What he couldn't let him do was upset him and make him feel this… insecure.

Robin entered the reception room where his dinner had been set up at a small table.

"Very good. Bill, this is Slade, my new slave. Take him down to the kitchens, introduce him, and make sure he gets some dinner as well. Slade, I expect you back in one hour."

"Yes, Master," the man bowed, and Robin smiled tightly and nodded. Maybe he wouldn't be so difficult to control, after all? Firm reins might be all it took.

* * *

Slade again took full advantage of the opportunity to make friends with the servants he was introduced to. He was met with a few leers because of his status and lack of clothes, but he just countered with leers and suggestions of his own. As soon as the others realized the he wasn't embarrassed about his occupation, they toned the teasing down. No one really wanted to make an enemy of the large man, after all.

Slade enjoyed it. He had always possessed a natural charm, but he seldom got to use it, as that wasn't the way he ran his kingdom. If Wintergreen had thought that he would suffer from being so completely demoted in status he had been wrong, the king thought to himself with a smirk. The food was good too, simple but wholesome, just the way he liked it. He had heard the nobility in this country ate strange things like bird's tongue and eggs so small they could barely be worth picking, but that wasn't food for a real man, in his opinion. No wonder Robin was so slightly built. Now, he had heard the king was supposed to be more impressive, but, as yet, he hadn't seen him. He managed to hear quite a bit of gossip before the hour was up. None of it was what he had come here to find out, but he feigned interest for now. It was much too early to start asking questions.

* * *

Robin had finished eating, signaled the kitchen to take the dishes away, and was now in his study reading a book one of his tutors had recommended.

"Master?"

The prince looked up. "Ah, Slade, you're back. Good."

"Is there anything you require?" the man asked, and managed to make the common question seem suggestive.

"No. Although…" Robin closed the book, and looked up at the man. "There's something you can do for me… something that I've been curious about all day."

"Yes, Master?" the man said, taking half a step forward.

"Tell me about Blüdhaven."

"Excuse me? I mean… Certainly, Master. What would you like to know?" Slade answered, feeling somewhat disappointed. He had hoped for other 'duties'. The slights smirk on the prince's face told him that he knew that.

"There is very little news from the mountains down here. How is the country fairing after the last war?"

"Quite well, now. The decades after the war, however, was full of internal conflict and the land was split in three. The current king was crowned at sixteen and has since then conquered the other regions and united the kingdom once more."

"An impressive feat, I'm sure. I think I've heard his name once… they called him something peculiar…?"

"King Deathstroke, My Lord."

"Yes, that was it. Is it true he hides his face?"

"He is said to always wear a helmet with the visor down," Slade nodded. "They say… although this is only gossip…?"

"Do tell," the prince smiled and leaned forward a little, his eyes glittering of curiosity.

"It is said that he suffered severe injuries, and wants to hide that fact so none of the lords will think that he has become weakened and challenge him." There really were no such rumor. Slade had worn the helmet when he was young, simply because he _was_ young and grizzled old warriors didn't take orders well from a boy. He had kept it, as he noticed that it brought respect, and quite a bit of fear, with it. Later, as he had lost his eye on the battlefield, his made up rumor had some relevance to it: the injury had been sever and if he had showed it openly he might have been challenged. It had healed, however, and healed well, the scar from the sword stroke barely visible.

"Or he's just ugly," the Prince chuckled. "Is he well liked?"

"He's… well respected," Slade answered truthfully. 'Liked' was a very uncertain term; rulers had to make decisions, after all, and couldn't always please everyone. The prince seemed to understand this, because he nodded.

"I know very little of the geography of the country. What is the name of the capital?"

"Lockhaven, Master. The castle goes by that name as well, but it's more commonly known as 'Deathstroke's Keep' now."

"And are the blades as good as they say?"

"Better, Master," Slade grinned and couldn't hide his pride. "They are the biggest export, they and metal in general. Precious ones too."

"So you would say that the country is financially secure?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Very much so, My Lord."

"How do you know? How can a slave judge things like that?"

"I used to serve some high ranking people in Blüdhaven," the man explained smoothly. "And I also used to be a soldier."

"High ranking? Who?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you, Master. Slaves are bound by oath never to reveal anything about their old masters, if that might harm them. Our countries were long at war, after all, so I think I better hold my tongue. I assume you wouldn't want me to speak of you when I leave your side, would you?"

No, Robin didn't want that. And not because the state secrets, but because of much more personal ones. He gave the man a flat look and moved on.

"Well, you're in_ this_ country now, and I expect you to learn about it and respect our customs."

"Of course, Master, and I'm very eager to learn as much about this country as I can," Slade said honestly.

"Good. Well, if you knew how to read, I'd have you read this book…" the prince muttered almost to himself and glared down at the boring tome.

"I _do_ know how to read, Master," Slade let him know, curious about the content.

"You do? A slave? How come?"

"An aging former master with bad eyesight. I was taught by him so I could read him letters and books in private. As he received letters from vide and far I was taught to read and write in the this tongue as well." The languages of Blüdhaven and Gotham were quite similar, more like two dialects than separate languages, but there were differences.

"Well, then… I just might have some use of you after all," the prince smirked and held the book out to the man. "I need to get through three chapters tonight, but I'm bored out of my mind. I would prefer to _listen_ to them… Start on chapter ten."

* * *

After two, long, chapters, Robin raised his hand.

"Very good, Slade, but I think we'll continue this in the bedroom."

The man knew better than to get his hopes up now, and he was right. As they entered the sleeping chamber, the prince walked over to his bed where his nightshirt lay, courtesy of Alfred.

"Continue reading. I shall change into my night clothes myself," the young man said as if that was a big feat. Slade, who had been standing the whole time sank down on his cot as he prepared to continue with the last chapter.

"Get on your feet!" the prince snapped. "A slave does not sit in the presence of his master, and _no one_ sits in the presence of royalty without permission!"

"I apologize, I'm not familiar with all your customs yet, Master," Slade said as he rose. Actually, no one ever sat in his presence either. He had forgotten himself and that was not good.

"Very well. You may sit," the prince nodded. "But I won't allow any disrespect from you."

"Of course not, My Lord, thank you," Slade bowed, before sitting as bid. He continued reading, half looking at the text, half at the undressing prince. Slade had grown up quickly, in every way, and sex was not nearly as a taboo subject in Blüdhaven as it seemed to be here, so he found it strange that the young man could undress in front f him without as much as a blush, but seemed very embarrassed when even hearing of intimate matters. Apparently, he didn't really connect the two. Slade started to wonder if the idea of making himself a bedroom slave had, in fact, been a mistake.

Robin pulled his nightshirt over his head, and then realized that he needed to go empty his bladder before bed. He raised a hand to quiet Slade.

"I need to use the lavatory. You've seen it, I assume? The alcove in the bathroom? The servants empty the barrel twice a week, and you are allowed to use it yourself, just ask for permission. If you're not on duty, you don't need permission, of course," he explained and left for his errand. Some facilities was built jutting out from the wall so the waste fell into a pile far below, but that wouldn't have been possible here, as Robin's rooms faced the outer courtyard… After he was done he climbed into the huge canopy bed as he listened to the slave who he had told to start up again. He had a nice reading voice, the prince admitted as he tried to get comfortable. The sheets felt a bit cold against his skin and he wondered if they would still do so with another body in the bed with him. Those were rather inappropriate thoughts, however, so he pushed them away, trying to focus on the reading again.

"The chapter ends here, Master, shall I start the next?"

"Good heavens, no, three chapters was all I needed to cover. Put the lamps out and you may retire for the night. Oh, but put another log on the fire first."

"Thank you Master, and sleep well," the man nodded, putting the book on the dresser before moving around all the rooms, turning down the wall mounted oil lamps and shrouding the rooms in darkness.

Robin followed the man with his eyes as he came back into the bedrooms to turn out the lights there and give the fire more fuel. He was just about to close his eyes to fall asleep when the man did something unexpected; he removed his loin cloth. The prince stifled a gasp and didn't know if he should object. Then again he figured, as the man who wasn't taking any notice of him, lay down on his own cot, the slave didn't have any sleep clothes. He couldn't really scold him for that, could he?

Robin closed his eyes and rolled over on his side. The last thought he had before he fell asleep was that he felt very silly about the fact that he had freaked out when he had begun to get hair above his manhood when he was twelve. Alfred had been right. Other men had that too.

* * *

"Rise and shine Your Highness!"

"Alfred, I think I'm too old to be woken up like that…" Robin grumbled and sleepily sat up. He blinked when he spotted Slade, dressed in his loincloth again, thankfully, standing ready for orders by his cot. "Slade, you can go down to the kitchen for breakfast for half an hour. I'll eat here and then we'll see…" the prince said.

"I have arranged to have some clothes brought up for him and the tailor will come by in an hour," Alfred said.

"Good, then that's sorted at least," Robin nodded, and waved Slade away. As the man left, the young man had some questions for the valet as the man helped him dress and brush his hair. "Alfred, how am I supposed to treat him?"

"The slave, Sir? As you wish, I suppose. Some slaves are companions, others simply work animals, it's very much up to the master. Has he caused you any trouble?"

"No, no, not as such, he just make me a bit… uncomfortable."

"Because of his services? You didn't like them?"

"I didn't- I mean, I… I didn't ask for any of _those_ things last night. Don't you think that's kind of… uncivilized?"

"Not at all, My Lord, many nobles have pleasure slaves, more than one might think, probably."

"But… he's a man too?" Robin didn't actually really mind that fact, but he also didn't know how others might view it. He knew some men preferred the company of others of their own gender instead of marriage, but that was not very common, after all, and mostly whispered about.

"Many males have male pleasure slaves, and there's a simple reason. To be blunt, My Lord; they know what they are doing."

"Oh."

"Just remember the rules: hands and mouth, Your Highness, that is all."

"Yes, of course! I wouldn't dream of anything.. else…" Robin said, not completely sure what 'anything else' might be, although he had a few guesses.

* * *

Robin spent the morning briefly talking to the tailor, so the man wouldn't make anything unsuitable, like variations of the loincloth, and then left Slade in the man's hands while he went to his court room to deal with today's business. He actually managed to answer the man who had came back for the third time. It was a rather simple, if boring, matter and Robin felt properly ashamed of himself for not listening earlier, but, after all, as royalty his word was law, so he didn't apologize. He had dismissed Slade until lunch and was walking into the actual courtroom, mainly to just show his face and remind Bruce that he was still alive, when someone appeared at his side.

"Your Highness."

Robin nodded back. The Duke of Blackgate. The prince didn't like him and the feeling was mutual, as the duke was someone who believed that, as just an _adopted_ son, Robin had no real claim to the throne. The prince despised him mainly for having a creepy smile. He knew of the man's reservations about him, but his position was very much secure in the law of the land, and he wasn't worried that it would turn into more than grumbling.

"I heard you have acquired a bedroom slave?"

"News travels fast, Sir Blackgate," Robin said stiffly, noting the absence of a title.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, My Lord, I was actually wondering if I may share a few words with you. Perhaps offering some advice?"

Well, advice about this was something Robin really craved, so he decided to at least listen to what the man had to say, and nodded.

"Thank you," the man smiled, and bowed almost mockingly, but not enough for the prince to scold him. "It's important with slaves to keep them on a short leash, they have to respect you, after all. Don't let him get away with anything, because if you start slipping, he'll soon be impossible to handle. Besides, I've heard he was a northerner, and those people can be dangerous. I'm only saying this for your own safety, of course, My Lord."

"Of course," Robin said dryly. "He hasn't misbehaved as of yet, however."

"Forgive me, but have you started his training?"

"Training?" Alfred hadn't mentioned anything about training. The trader had said that the man was fully trained, but that, obviously wasn't true. At least not for the court in Gotham.

"Yes, and if you haven't you have to begin _immediately_. He should do anything on command; kneel, bow, and of course, pleasure you with no thought to his own pleasure. He must learn that you are his Master, not his employer, My Lord; there is a difference. And if he doesn't obey immediately, he should be punished."

"Oh. And… what kind of punishment would you recommend?"

"Whipping is popular," the man answered. Robin balked slightly at the thought; he had never been forced to physically lay a hand on anyone. "Although," the man continued, "any kind of physical punishment is acceptable."

"I see." Robin had really thought of the man as just another servant, but perhaps that was wrong. Maybe that gave the slave a higher status than he deserved?

* * *

After being measured from top to toe, twice in some places, and having fabric samples draped over him to see if they fitted his 'complexion', Slade had been left alone. He used the time to check the small trunk he had brought with him, which appeared to contain just a few personal items. He opened the false bottom, though, and there it was; his sword. It was specially made in three pieces which quickly locked into each other. It made it a little bit more fragile, but not by much. It was still leagues better than those silly needles they called swords here. After making sure everything was in order he put the trunk away again.

As his so called 'master' didn't really have a way to reach him if he left, and Slade wasn't sure he was _allowed_ to leave, he stayed put in the rooms, but, as he was alone, he spent the time going through the documents in the prince's study. Being a slave might be a breeze in his case, but that didn't mean he wanted to stay one forever. As sooner as he could quit this act, the better. Unfortunately the king-in-training didn't have a lot of recent information, mostly history and geography, things Slade already knew about. What he needed to find out, however, was how well protected the castle really was, including how many people were guarding it. Wayne Castle looked impressive, although slightly dainty, but looks could be deceiving. After a long peace and no enemy troops on the horizon, Slade and his men, now moonlighting as traders, should be able to take it. Rushing in, without knowing the layout and the weaknesses of the place wouldn't do, however. Without the muscle force to back him up, the takeover needed to be planned carefully.

After searching through the study he returned to the bedroom just in time for the prince's return.

* * *

Robin was confused and also a little angry. He hadn't asked to deal with a slave, he had enough on his plate, but he had been raised with the knowledge that he should never show any weakness and Slade himself challenge that rule.

By the time he entered his bedroom he was in a foul mood. The slave immediately faced him, however, giving him his full attention, but nothing more than that.

"Kneel," Robin ordered.

The man merely blinked and hesitated, making the prince react with lightening speed, grabbing the first thing he could reach, which happened to be one of his decorative riding crops laying disregarded on a chest of drawers. He struck out, and, even as the slave was falling to his knees, finally grasping the order, the tip struck his chin, leaving an angry red mark behind.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it!" Robin hissed. He tasted bile in his throat. This felt so _wrong_, but he had to, didn't he? He glared down at the now kneeling man, who had a carefully blank expression on his face. "Your training begins today. You are my slave and you will be treated as such. When I enter a room, I expect you to bow deeply, and when I give an order I don't want to see any hesitation, is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," the man answered. His voice was harder than before, sending chills down the prince's spine, and he was reminded about the warning that the slave might be dangerous. Well, that just meant he couldn't let him get out of control, didn't it? That the duke had been right?

"Good. Stand," Robin ordered, and once more, the man was towering over him. The prince walked around him, inspecting the temporary clothes Alfred had arranged. It was a simple tunic and breeches, both in different shades of grey with no embellishment what so ever. "I guess the clothes have to do. It's time I showed you off. Where is your lead?"

"I took it off before bathing yesterday, I'll fetch it for you, Master," Slade bowed and went to his trunk. He hadn't expected it to be used again, really, but he had had the foresight not to throw it away. He handed it to his master with another bow, and a moment later it was fastened to the iron ring around his neck once more. It amused the man, however, that the petite prince had to reach up to do so.

As if the nobleman had felt the man's amusement, he tugged quite hard at the leash to indicate that the man should follow. Slade willingly did so, of course, hoping to get his first glimpse of the real court.

He wasn't disappointed. For the rest of the afternoon the prince walked him around like a dog at some sort of gathering. Food was being served in tiny mouthfuls and the prince actually fed him by hand, seemingly enjoying it as well, and his following of young nobles giggled inanely along with him. Slade had wondered if the prince had any friends, because he had seemed a bit too insecure and unsure about certain things, and in Slade's own experience, friends talked, compared and even experimented sometimes, to get to the bottom of certain mysteries in life. It was pretty clear to his eye, however, that even though the prince was being followed around by this group, the young man didn't consider any of them friends. It was something in his eyes, saying 'you are all idiots', although he was charming and witty around them. He didn't _have_ to be witty, of course, the group would laugh at anything he said, but Slade found that he actually was.

The man wondered about the personality change and what had brought it on. Had the prince gotten advice about how to handle him? It sure seemed like it. Or maybe he had given the young man too much credit, and there really was a sadist lurking just beneath the surface. After all, traits like that could lay dormant until the opportunity presented itself; the king had seen it in the wars many times. If so, he suspected that his stay would become more difficult. He had noticed, after all, that the prince had kept the riding crop and fastened it on his belt, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. It would just make him enjoy killing him a bit more.

* * *

"He's quite stunning, will you lend him out?" one of his so called friends asked Robin. This group, and this group only, had the privilege of not using his title, because as per tradition, a royal's inner circle didn't have to, and that's what these people were supposed to represent. Robin rather hated all of them, but they were the highest ranking young men at the court and that gave them certain rights. They had ended up reclining on low couches or sitting on big pillows on the floor around a table full of fruit, cold cuts and wine. Slade was kneeling next to Robin's chaise longue, and was being fed a grape once in a while from the prince.

"Let's all play with him!" another noble sad and actually reached out to caress Slade's thigh. His hand would have gotten further too, unless the prince had drawn his riding crop and, _somewhat _lightly, smacked it.

"He's _my_ toy, boys, you stay away. At least for now."

"Have you used him yet?" came the obvious question.

"I just got him yesterday," Robin snorted, not missing a beat. "It took a while to get him clean and start training him, after all. I wouldn't ride a newly caught horse without some basic training." The prince didn't seem to realize the kind of innuendo he had made, but neither, it appeared, did the others.

"You've seen him naked, though, haven't you?" another one asked.

"Of course. He's quite hairy, actually, It must be so it won't freeze off in the mountains," Robin grinned, and his group laughed as expected. Slade smirked on the inside as the boy revealed that he had caught a peek. The more curious he was, the easier it would be to bed him.

"I heard a stable boy say that he would be bored with noblemen's intimacy rule quickly, and that it was much more fun to do it _all_," one of the young men mused, and Slade immediately picked that one as his favorite of the bunch.

"So the son of the Duke of Sprang River, listens to commoners?" Robin smirked. "I hope you haven't lowered yourself so far as to _taking _his advice?"

"Of course not!" the noble in question gasped, getting jeers and leers from his comrades.

"No one of noble birth should sully themselves before the marital bed," Robin went on preaching. "Leave that kind of foul behavior up to the poor."

"No matter how stunning your slave is, I think I would like a young, pretty man myself. Or a woman. I shall ask my father for one," yet another of the young crowd let them know. At once more voices were raised saying that, yes, they would see about getting their own pleasure slaves as well.

"There are great advantages to getting a male, though," Robin smirked. "They, after all, know what they are doing," he continued, mimicking his valet. A discussion about male verses female bed-slaves then broke out, but, of course, the prince's word was law, at least in this particular group.

"It's the King! The King is coming!" one voice then hissed.

"Leave us!" Robin snapped as he got to his feet, and the order was obeyed immediately. The prince placed a hand on Slade's head as to tell him to stay on his knees. "My King," Robin bowed with his hand on his heart when Bruce stopped in front of them. Just because the man was his father didn't mean he shouldn't greet him respectfully, especially not in public. Robin had learned that lesson when he was four.

"Prince Robin," the man nodded back. He who wore a quite embellished coat in very dark blue and gold, as well as a thin gold band around his brow which represented the crown on less official occasions. His voice and eyes were quite reserved as usual. Robin knew the man was passionate sometimes, but seldom about people. He was so wrapped up in his inventions, his competitions and training and, of course, running the country, that the prince no longer expected him to marry. People seldom interested the man beyond numbers and statistics. "This is your new slave I've heard about?"

"Yes," Robin nodded, his fingers now playing in the man's hair. It was thick and actually softer that he had thought, though coarser, of course, than his own. He supposed they didn't have nice soaps and bath oils in the mountains. "This is Slade."

"You haven't introduced him to me before now?" the majesty said, clearly meant as a reprimand.

"I also got a new horse last month, do you expect me to introduce you to him too, Your Highness?" Robin snorted quietly.

"Don't take that tone with me. You have also allowed a large caravan to camp practically on our doorstep without consulting me. A northern caravan selling weapons, to boot. You will go there in the morning to do an inspection round. Bring Alfred and a few guards."

"I already had plans to do that," Robin said.

"Really? Because when I inquired with Alfred earlier today, he had no knowledge of any such thing in your calendar."

"I haven't told him to make the arrangements yet," the prince ground out between his teeth, his hands tightening in his slave's hair from frustration.

"I see. Well, never keep plans like that to yourself. Your valet will need to know."

"Yes, Your Highness," Robin muttered.

"Good. And Robin? If I hear about any… disgrace, regarding this slave, I will take him from you." With those words the king turned on his heel, leaving a seething prince behind him.

"Slave, do you know how to ride?" Robin almost growled.

"Yes, Master."

"Good," the prince said and yanked on the man's leash. "We're going riding."

_To Be Continued…._

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's chapter two for you. You don't like Bruce? Well, you're not really supposed to. He's not a bad person, as such, he's just… well. ;) Robin in the role of Master is awkward, both to write (but FUN to write! SO MUCH FUN!) and in appearance, but he'll get better. He just needs some practice! But I doubt he'll go all Slade-master-ish, it's just not his style. And yes, he's doing things wrong, taking the wrong advice, but he's an impressionable youth, after all, feeling lost in this new role, something Slade never really has… ;) Input/suggestions about this is very welcome, as well as scenes you might want to see and so on. If they fit I might write them, or at least I'll get a feel for how you see the dynamics in this story, which would be interesting…

Please review! See you next Sunday!

/W


	3. Better Ride on Ass That Carries Me

A/N: This chapter has been edited by **Fluffy09, **thank you to her! As usual I've made some changes at the last minute, so any remaining mistakes are mine! Ready for a bit of smex? ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 3: Better Ride on Ass That Carries Me, Than on a Horse That Throws Me**

As Robin stomped off to his room to change for their ride, he sent Slade down to the stables to tell them to get the horses ready. That gave the man the perfect opportunity to look for the runner Wintergreen had placed outside the castle's gates. The lad, one of his men's youngest sons, wore an orange scarf as a sign, although Slade would have recognized him anyway. The boy did a good job of keeping an eye on the gate while looking inconspicuous, and Slade waved him over.

"Tell Wintergreen there will be an inspection of the camp tomorrow. Make sure everything looks as it should," he ordered. The boy nodded and took off.

He told the stable boys what the prince had asked for and, judging by the looks he got, the reputation about him had spread even this far. Still, Slade endured the snickers and offered to lighten their load by saddling the horse they brought out for him himself. They allowed it, but the man could feel that they kept an eye on him, to make sure he knew what he was doing.

The horse was a perfectly good one, a gray mare with black mane and tail whose name was 'Fog'. She looked like an old work horse compared to the prince's palomino one, though.

As the prince appeared, Slade could hear by his steps that he wasn't over his foul mood yet, and made sure to bow deeper than the stable hands.

"Let's go," was all the young man grunted and swung up on his horse like he weighed nothing. Slade joined him, but had to dig his heels in to catch up to his little master. Looks could be deceiving, though, and the mare had a lot of power left in her yet.

* * *

Robin urged his horse on faster, like he was hoping to outrun his anger. Dax fought for the bit, and the prince just gave it to him, letting the steed run wild. He'd calm down eventually; he had tried this before, and this time the prince encouraged it, even though he knew it was wrong. _He_ should be the one in charge, but he felt as wild as the horse.

They were heading along a path that led straight into the countryside, the forest looming at the horizon, but Robin wouldn't mind if they even rode that far. He usually stayed on the riding paths, as his time out here was often limited by appointments and responsibility. Screw that now.

Suddenly the horse took a little extra leap. They were going at full speed, but the prince realized that Dax was trying to throw him. Well, two could play that game. He wouldn't be humiliated one more time today. The young horse was determined, however, and when it suddenly stopped and reared up on its hind legs, Robin's feet slipped out of the stirrups. He had been so upset that he had forgotten about his boots and wore only his low, flat shoes, which were absolutely useless here. One of his feet slipped through the stirrup completely, and Robin knew that if he was thrown off now, he would be dragged along the ground, shattering his leg for sure and perhaps his life along with it. He felt a spike of fear, but, deep down, there was another feeling as well. Of… relief…? Now he wouldn't have to deal with any of this anymore. Being a prince. Bruce. Turning eighteen. Getting married. Responsibilities… and, last but not least… the slave. The idea that he might welcome death, even though it only lasted an instant, shook him to his core.

Slade saw the prince losing control and urged his horse forward, only to stop right next to the bucking stallion, jump from his saddle and grab the palomino's reins. The horse suddenly found it couldn't move its head, and froze. The prince's reaction, however, wasn't one of gratitude.

"I don't need your help!" he yelled as he dismounted, his eyes blazing and his hand, holding his riding crop, rose. Slade quickly wound the jittery horse's reins around a sapling by the edge of the road, hoping it would hold it. His own just waited calmly where it had stopped, looking slightly bored. Apparently an enraged prince was a daily occurrence for it.

"Kneel! Obey me right now!" the prince snarled. Slade grudgingly did, lowering his head to protect his only eye from the strikes which were now raining down on him, all over his arms, head, shoulders and back. The young man started walking around him, striking furiously while yelling. "He has a sensitive mouth, damn it, how_ dare _you hurt my horse? How _dare _you think I need help from a _slave_? I don't! I don't need you! You're a _thing_! You're worthless! How_ dare_ you tell _me_ what to _do_?!"

That last sentence threw Slade a little bit, because, as he remembered it, he hadn't given the prince any orders. As the youngster continued, however, the king started to realize that this wasn't about him anymore. He gritted his teeth against the pain of the strikes. It wasn't too bad where the crop hit clothes, but whenever it struck skin it felt like a wasp sting._ Don't hit back. Don't hit back. _He had never taking a blow without giving as good as he got, not since he was a very small child at least, and his whole being screamed at him for doing so now, especially when it would be so easy to stop it. He could snap the sapling of a prince in two in the blink of an eye, after all. _Stick to the plan. Just remember the plan. Revenge comes later._ Besides, he understood that there was something making the young man act like this, something out of even _his_ control, and maybe he could use that to his advantage.

"You _always _try to control me! I'm not doing anything _wrong_! You never trust me, _ever_! I'm _never_ good enough to you! Am I such a _disappointment_?" The strikes started to become weaker and more erratic as the prince was tiring himself out, his voice becoming hoarse from screaming and thick from tears Slade, if he dared to raise his head, thought he would be able to see rolling down the blueblood's cheeks. "I'm not a_ real_ son to you, am I? I don't even_ exist_ to you! And you won't tell me _anything_! I'm _eighteen _soon! I deserve to know! And you won't tell me! _WHY?_" Slade didn't know what the boy was talking about right now, but it was clear it had something to do with his father. The beating had all but stopped, and he decided on a bold move. Looking up, he saw the prince just standing there, hugging himself and shaking from quiet sobs.

"Master…?" the man said softly, not getting any reaction.

"I hate you…" the prince whispered.

Slade stood up then, unhurriedly, but wasn't told off. He walked up to the boy and, slowly, pulled him against himself. The prince allowed it, his body collapsing against Slade's, surrendering in a way that made the king's loins stir with interest, though he pushed that feeling aside. "Let me take care of you, Master. Let me help you relax," he told the young man and brought him along to a small group of trees standing a little way from the path. The grass was softer here in their shadow, but Slade pulled off his tunic and placed it on the ground for extra protection. He coaxed the prince down on it, on his stomach, and began rubbing his shoulders and back in slow, firm, circles. Wintergreen hadn't been lying when he had told the prince that Slade could give massages; knowing how to both simulating and relax muscles was a very important part of the Northern culture, and had nothing to do with sex, although… well, Slade hoped to go further this time.

The young prince had already calmed down, but Slade could feel how tense he was. Little by little, the body beneath him relaxed, his breath's getting deeper. He hadn't said anything more, however, but then he began to sit up.

"I'm better. Let's go back," he muttered.

"Master, please…" Slade let his fingers dig in a little, making the boy groan and fall back against the makeshift blanket. "This is why I'm here. Let me show you what I can do. I promise your mood will improve even more afterwards," the man said, smirking down at the prince's back. As the boy didn't say anything, Slade took that as permission, and his hands began to move in more sensual ways. He was careful around the boy's sore shoulder, but it didn't seem to hurt as much today. After reducing the body on the ground to nothing but boneless flesh, he carefully urged the prince to turn around. "Now I'm going to do something even better," he promised. "Tell me if you want me to stop." His fingers quickly found the two rows of buttons holding the front flap of the prince's breeches closed, and unbuttoned them. As no underwear was worn, the prince was now bare, leaving Slade to notice that his massage had begun to please the young man. The prince gasped as the man coaxed his member into full hardness quite quickly, and cried out as Slade lowered his head to take the tip into his mouth.

Slade didn't want the innocent young man to come too quickly, that, in his experience, often led to a feeling of guilt for succumbing to the pleasure, and the man wanted to leave him hungry for more. The scent of horse mixed with sweat and musk didn't put him off. Men should smell like men, and he remembered even preferring taking his wife after she came home from a long, hot ride instead of right after she stepped out of the bath, smelling like flowers or fruit. Slade returned his focus on the task at hand, wondering why in the world he had thought about his long dead wife at a moment like this, but as the pale thighs parted slightly before him, maybe that wasn't so surprising. They actually reminded him of his wife's; lean, but strong from riding. The only difference was that the boy, of course, lacked the rounded hips of a woman to complete the image.

He was slow and gentle, licking, sucking and using his hands as well, to caress and massage the young man's sack. He stayed away from the area beyond that, however, determined not to break any rules this soon; that might be disastrous to his plans. When he had the boy where he wanted, thrashing and moaning, beyond all poise and control, he finally let him come, which he did with a cry that sounded like music to the man's ears.

The prince lay panting with his eyes closed, and his hair, which had come loose, was tousled, spreading out around his head. His lips were parted and he was panting, little tremors running through his body. He was quite beautiful and the man couldn't wait to have those legs over his shoulders as he sank into the tight, hot body. Alas, that was not for today, and he carefully made the young man presentable again.

"Master? Are you ready to go back?" he then asked cautiously.

"Yes." The answer was rather clipped, and the man wondered if the prince was in a foul mood still, or if he had gone too far. After standing up and brushing himself off, the young man took a deep breath and then his shoulders relaxed a little. Slade hastily pulled on his tunic again, so he wouldn't keep him waiting, and when he could see again, he met the prince's eyes, which looked to be smiling a little, although just barely joined by his lips. "That service… it was very nice."

"Thank you. I aim to please," Slade smirked. The next second his cheek was hit by the riding crop, which was still in his master's hand.

"Don't look so smug about it," the prince growled.

* * *

Robin walked away from his slave briskly to remount his horse that had calmed down and not been able to escape. What had just happened was… nothing short of marvelous. It was the most amazing feeling he had ever experienced, better by far than chocolate, which was beginning to get very popular at court. Better than the times he had touched himself. That didn't mean the slave should smirk about it, though. If he started to feel important, the training would be wasted, after all, that much was clear. Robin called the shots here, it was up to him to decide what was pleasing and not.

"I'm sorry for my arrogance, Master." the man said behind him.

"You are forgiven. But tell me, the trader said you were trained, did your former masters allow such gloating?"

"I've only had northern masters," Slade explained. "The culture there is… very different, especially when it comes to matters of the body. Pleasure is to be enjoyed, not ashamed of. It is kept out of the public eye, of course, but freely spoken about and, when old enough, the children are told what they need to know. Forgive me, but I have a feeling that is not the case here, My Lord?"

"Certainly not, we are not_ barbarians_, after all… But out of curiosity, and since we are alone… what are the children taught?"

The rest of the ride was quite revolutionary to the young prince. Not as much, perhaps, as what had happened under the trees, but finding out exactly how women came to have children was quite… disturbing. He had mainly been told that, on his wedding night, he would lie with his bride, and, eventually, she would grow with child. Turns out he had to do a bit more than just lie there. Most things seemed exciting. What also was quite strange was the fact that men, apparently, had something inside them, which made it feel good for them to be entered as well, even though they couldn't have children. Why nature had constructed such a thing, Robin didn't understand, but it, on some level, seemed… fair.

At seventeen he was learning things that less sheltered children knew at twelve or sooner. Men and women of status, however, unless figuring things out by themselves by spying, weren't told this until it was time for their wedding, unless their parents thought it fit to tell them sooner. Bruce would probably rather cut off his own hand than speaking to his son about these matters, Robin suspected, and, as he wasn't married himself, the young man wondered if he knew all this himself. There had been rumors of the King's lovers, but, as this was against the code of conduct, of course, people tended to turn a blind eye. He was the king, after all. And Alfred telling him… well… the man had become less and less uptight with age, sometimes even shocking the young man, and, as a commoner, he was not bound by the same rules. He had also been married shortly in his youth, the prince seemed to remember someone mentioning. Alfred could have told him these things, but, of course, it was just not done. Not before marriage. So, maybe, they would have this talk soon.

Robin knew that, since the king wasn't married, there was a demand on him to marry young and secure the succession, and it would happen within a year, he assumed. Unofficially he would choose his bride on his eighteenth birthday, and he was part excited, scared and bored with the whole thing. Sometimes he felt like he should just have a committee decide for him, but, then again, he wanted _some _say in the matter. He usually avoided women. They annoyed him, the way they spoke, sometimes sounding like they were using a different language. They also dressed so very impractically, painted their faces and you could smell their perfume from the other room. They didn't feel _real_ to him, it was like they were a different species, and he didn't plan on spending too much time with his future spouse. He would have to do the things Slade had told him about, of course, until there was a result, and he had sworn to himself to be a good father to his children, though the concept of having them was strange to him. But his wife? She was simply there to provide them, it didn't mean he would have to change much of his life, surely? He needed his privacy, and peace and quiet, after all. And to go out riding. Well. He was sure it would work out.

"Your Highness?"

"Hm? Oh." The prince hadn't noticed that they were back at the courtyard, and now the stable boy holding the horse's reins looked up at him questioningly. Ignoring him, Robin sat off and began walking back to his rooms, Slade on his heels like a large, quiet shadow.

The prince didn't bother with the leash now, it was more a public sign of possession than anything else. It wasn't like he could actually _hold_ the man with it. Slade could drag him around like child's toy if he wanted to.

After changing and cleaning up some it was time for Robin's history lesson of the week. The lesson, as all the theoretical classes he had, were held in his own chambers. He gave his slave some free time to get something to eat and tend to personal business, and the man returned as the lesson, or rather lecture, was about to end.

"So, Your Majesty, the Grand Laws are held in regard by every known country and contains the laws of war, trade, inheritance and…?"

"Crime," the prince answered.

"Very good, Your Highness. And thus the lesson ends for today. If you would read the chapter on laws of war until next time…?"

"Yes, professor," Robin nodded and stood up. "Slade, call for dinner."

"Yes, Master," the man bowed and went into the bedroom, and, after glancing at the small labels, pulled the right string. When he returned to the sitting room the tutor had left, and Robin was making some notes at the table. Slade coughed gently, and, as the prince raised his eyes, he bowed again.

"Beg your pardon, My Lord, but I would like to ask if you will need me with you on the inspection tomorrow?"

"Inspec- Damn! Summon Alfred at once!"

"Yes, Master."

"And you are coming. You said you knew swords and I want to buy one or two."

"My pleasure, Master," the man nodded, before turning to go ring for Alfred as well, but, at that moment, there was an short knock on the door and when it opened the valet stood there, maybe having a feeling that he was needed.

"Alfred, good timing, I need to arrange for an inspection tomorrow."

"It's been taken care of, My Lord," the man nodded. "A few of your entourage will accompany you as well as myself, of course. Will your slave come too?"

"Yes, he will," Robin nodded. "And thank you. But I don't appreciate that you took orders from the King and made plans without informing me," he added, his voice a bit hard. The humiliation Bruce had caused was beginning to resurface.

"I did no such thing, Your Highness!" the valet proclaimed. "I got the impression from His Majesty that he wanted the inspection done, and soon too, so I merely _anticipated_ your order."

"Very well…" Robin said, raising a hand, appeased for now. "What else is on the schedule for tomorrow?"

"The inspection is in the morning, and then you have a session with the Sword's Master in the afternoon," the man told him. "And, of course, I am here now to discuss the celebrations."

"I managed to forget about that as well…" Robin groaned.

"Well, distractions will do that to you, My Lord," the old man smiled teasingly.

"Let's just get to work, old man," the prince growled.

Slade listened with interest to the plans made for the prince's eighteenth birthday in two months, wondering if it would give him any information, or maybe even an opening to attack. It seemed too many people would arrive for the event, however, but at least he found out one crucial bit of information.

"We need to more than double the guards from the week before to the week after," Alfred let the prince know.

"How many are there now, then?" the young man asked, to Slade's delight.

"Fifty to seventy-five, working on a rolling schedule," the valet answered, making notes and crossing things off his list. "That's for the castle guard, the city guard not included."

"That seems to be very few?" Robin said carefully.

"Ah, your father claims that we are at peace and that the money is needed elsewhere," the valet nodded. "Had this been in your grandfather's day… Oh, well, with so many guests arriving they need to feel safe. Most of the castle guard are men too old to be active soldiers anymore, I'm afraid. I propose bringing in the first regiment from Fort Kane, they are based close enough to be able to march here in a day, and I've heard good reports about them. It would also be an honor, for them, of course, to act as royal guard."

"Sounds perfectly fine to me," Robin nodded. "I rather wish you would make all the decisions for me…"

"Now, young Sir, you are to be king one day," the old man said sternly. "Making decisions is what a king does."

"Yes, I know…" Robin sighed again. "Alright, bring them in. Do we have enough accommodations?"

"Yes, with several cots in the unused lower guestrooms, it should be enough."

"How about other servants? Kitchen staff?"

"I've asked them to provide me with a list of what they will need when it comes to additional workers, but they usually take in people they know, family members and such, so I don't think we will be needing much more room for them. As a last resource, there's always the dungeons."

"I'd rather put some of the so called honored guests down there…" Robin smirked. The dungeons were rarely used but fully operational.

"Yes, well, once some of them gets a glass in their hand, that place seems rather suitable for them," the valet said dryly. "Ah, well, I have some drawings for your outfit for the main feast. Personally I like the royal blue."

Robin looked at the sketches and nodded. "The royal blue is fine. Maybe silver trim instead of gold? I don't want people to start whispering about me overthrowing the King."

"Good thinking, Sir, I'll make the arrangements. About the menu-"

"Can the head chef handle the menu? He knows what I like and he's very good at composing dinners for these kinds of events. Tell him I want it to be a surprise for me. A birthday gift from the kitchen, if you will."

"Yes, My Lord, he'll be delighted, I'm sure."

"Anything else?"

"For now, no," the old man said, gathering up his things. "Thank you so much for your time, Your Highness. Would you like to retire for the evening?"

"Not quite yet, I have some studying to do, but once you have finished up around here you are free to go. Slade! Fetch the history book from the table over there and look up the chapter on war laws. Good man." Robin turned to Alfred, who had a questioning look in his eyes. "I use him to read to me. He does it surprisingly well for a slave," Robin explained.

"Ah, very good, Sir," the valet nodded. "You won't require a bath tonight, then?"

"No, not since I have the outing and fencing lesson tomorrow; I'll need a bath after that for sure," the prince decided.

"As you wish, Sir," the old man agreed, and went about his task of preparing for the next morning.

About an hour later Robin was in bed listening to the last sentences of the chapter he had to study, a slight frown on his face.

"Wars are puzzling, aren't they? All these rules. And then the treaties have another set of rules… and when it comes to invasions, well, killing every member of a royal family seems barbaric, doesn't it?"

"Would you allow me to speak freely, My Lord?"

"Yes," Robin nodded and then added in a chuckle, "As long as what you have to say is interesting…"

"I don't know how interesting you find it, Sir, but the laws were made because it's what is best for the country," Slade said.

"Curious thought. Explain."

"Wars can be long, thousands might die, but when the king is dead the victor has two choices; either sign a treaty gaining whatever he, or she wanted from the war; land, riches or special rights, for example, or the victor takes over the country. If successors to the throne are allowed to survive, it would create turmoil and inner strife as there would be contenders still left for the throne, and it might lead to an uprising, either then or later. A country can take great harm from times like those, stability is always better."

"Yes, but there might be children as well," Robin objected. "I think it's rather brutal. War is more honorable."

"Not for the thousands of farm boys dying in the fields, Master," Slade said dryly. "Besides, the law says that only family directly in line for the throne has to die, or whole clans might be annihilated. After a claiming, however, the more distant relatives lose their lawful right to the throne."

"You seem to know a lot about this…?" the prince frowned.

"Yes, My Lord, former Masters of mine had reason to study these laws."

"Oh, wait, are you talking about Deathstroke reuniting Blüdhaven? Did he use these laws? Did he kill his own family?"

"Yes, though not from execution; they died in battle. And as far as I know there were no younger children involved."

"Well, I guess that's good," the prince shrugged.

"Why, Master?" Slade asked, intrigued.

"Well, they are our neighbors… and I wouldn't want a child killer as a neighbor," the young man said, smiling a bit awkwardly.

"He would probably appreciate that statement," Slade chuckled. "Would you like me to question you on the chapter, Master?"

"Very well, but just for a little while," the prince nodded.

"As you wish, My Lord. Let's see, name three countries where the laws regarding an invading ruler securing the country has been applied."

"The countries of Steel, Metropolis, and… oh, right, Gotham, three hundred years ago."

"Excellent, Your Highness. What was the name of the Emperor of the city-state of Steel at that time, and how was he executed?"

"Ha! He wasn't the emperor, the state was ruled by a high priest; Brother Blood," Robin smirked, glad that the man hadn't tricked him. He looked more serious, though, when he continued. "He was executed by his successor, Lord Light, by being dismembered… drawn and quartered."

"That is correct."

"I guess you would find no fault in that either, having your victim being pulled apart by horses?" Robin muttered.

"It's reasonable."

"Why am I not surprised…?" the prince snorted.

"No offence, My Lord, but it was a show of strength for the people, proving that the god of the High Priest would not save him, and therefore making them accept their new ruler. Public executions makes sure there are no rumors about survivors and rebellions."

"Very well, enough talk…" the prince said, getting out of bed. "Come here, slave." He watched the man obey and then added, "Kneel." Slade did so and Robin smiled down on him as he caressed the man's head with his hands. "I want you to do it again."

"What, Master?" Slade asked, faking ignorance.

"Don't be difficult! What you did under the trees, of course!" Robin snapped.

"Of course, but wouldn't you rather lie down?" the man asked, not very fond of the position he was in. Moments like this made it difficult to pretend being a slave.

"No. I like you kneeling at my feet," the prince grinned. "I don't know why, but I like it."

_I know the feeling,_ Slade thought wryly and lifted the young man's nightshirt.

_To Be Continued…._

* * *

A/N: About bodily odors, I was thinking of the Napoleon Bonaparte quote, in a letter to his first wife, Joséphine, saying "Home in two weeks, do not bathe", but when I tried to find the exact quote (to put in this A/N), I discovered that it might not be true that he actually wrote this. It has, in fact, been said to be written by other rulers, depending on the country (the French blame an English ruler, and the English blame the French.) in fact, the quote vary greatly, which is not common with REAL quotes (because, after all there's usually a written source), and according to some sources there's no proof that he wrote this (and his letters are preserved, after all). So… yeah… fake quote, but "everyone knows" he wrote this. Interesting. Teaches us not to trust what "everyone" says, right? ;) I still haven't found anything decisive, but enough evidence that, if you are going to tell me he actually wrote it, you have to include a photocopy of the letter… ;)

And yes, some smut in this chapter. Twice. If you're in this for the smut, though, you're gonna have a bad time. There will be more of it (Robin seemed to like it, after all ;)) but it will be some time before it goes much further. Hopefully you're more here for the story… ;)


	4. The Man Who Does Not Love a Horse

A/N: ah, the irritation with Robin has been discussed in the duckling group on facebook… I might be narcissistic, but I love it when my stories are being talked about… ;) but the MAIN reason is that it's so interesting to find out how a story is viewed from the outside… because, trust me, I'm blind from 'in here'… AND I know what's going to happen, so I need to figure out what you see and try to make sure you either see what I see, or hide it from you, if it's supposed to be a twist, and… yeah… difficult! So feedback is always very appreciated!

Some might pity Robin a bit more after today's chapter… at least that's what I HOPE for, but, again, I don't know! Argh!

Special thank you to **Monster of Cookies **who was my beta this time!

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 4: The Man Who Does Not Love a Horse Cannot Love**

The next morning, not too early, of course, since the nobility wouldn't rise early unless absolutely necessary, a group on horseback set out through the castle gates. Robin rode first, flanked by two of his inner circle, while Alfred and Slade rode behind them. Six guards made up the rest of the troop, taking up positions on all sides.

The prince seemed in no hurry, as did his friends, babbling away like they were going on a picnic. With the exception of the prince, the other noblemen were terrible riders, their horses barely more than ponies, so docile that they were practically asleep, and still they managed to almost fall off several times. Alfred was better but Slade could tell that he preferred his own two feet to going on horseback.

The slave was dressed better today, as the tailor had sent the first clothes for him this morning, which they must have worked on day and night to get ready this quickly. The man rather liked them, actually. They were still simple, but cut to perfection to fit his body, and the high collared shirt, with no tie to set him apart from those of higher status, the snug breeches and the long riding jacket, were all done in black. It was something unseen at the court, where people loved color, but the effect of the black with his with hair was quite stunning, at least according to the prince. His boots were the only thing that weren't new, but they were polished to perfection and looked the part. All the buttons were silver, and the only embellishment was a small embroidery on his chest, an 'R' under the crown of the Crown Prince, to show people who he belonged to. The prince himself had straightened his collar after watching him dress, and smiled up at him with quite a possessive look in his eyes.

"You are very handsome," the young man had said. "And people will stare at you now, for all the_ right_ reasons. And they will know that you are mine. Let's go and show you off," he had finished by patting the man on his chest, not unlike one would pet a horse's neck or flank, before grabbing his leash and leading him out of the room.

Slade _had _drawn quite a few looks. First people almost jumped: seeing someone wearing that much black brought images of the Grim Reaper to their minds. Black was reserved for death, and Slade, in _any_ color, already looked lethal. Then they noticed the leash, and the northern king could _feel_ how much the little prince enjoyed the attention then, as if he was taking a wild beast for a walk and it obeyed him. The man had had to withhold a snort, but even_ he_ wasn't sure if he was disgusted or amused. He didn't have to keep the leash while riding, however, that would have been awkward and dangerous as well, but it was clear that the young man had grown too fond of it.

The ride didn't take more than half an hour, and only because the nobles would fall off at greater speed. Compared to Slade and Alfred's more muted colors, the young men were peacocks dressed in shades that in some cases hurt the eye. The prince's wardrobe was better chosen, however, with a dark green riding coat with silver embroidery, he matched his 'pet' well.

As they entered the camp's outer region no one paid them any mind at first. Slade looked around at his men, recognizing every face, of course, but only a handful of them knew who _he _was, as they had only seen him in his helmet and armor. The others were just following Wintergreen's orders, being told that the king would join them when it was time to attack.

They came up on a man who was carrying an armload of thin iron rods of different lengths to the makeshift smithy they had build at the outskirts of the camp. They had needed one of those both to be able to keep up the rouse by mending whatever the citizens brought for them, and to prepare their own attack by re-shoeing the horses after the long journey. Slade was sure Wintergreen kept them all busy. As they were about to pass the man with the rods, a few of them slipped and fell to the ground. They all noticed since one of the noblemen's horses shied away slightly, making all the others nervous as well. The man bent to try to pick the rods up, but almost lost his grip on the others in the process.

"Ah, fuck it!" he cursed loudly and continues on, not even giving the visitors a second glance.

"Fuck?" Robin asked curiously. "That is not a word I am familiar with. Slave, do you know what it means?"

"It's a term meaning 'to fornicate', Master," Slade answered with some glee, as he knew it would shock the silly ninnies on their ponies. And it did. Gasps of 'oh, really!' and 'such language!' was heard. Robin, however, simply frowned thoughtfully.

"I assume the word can also be used as a common curse word?"

"Yes, Master," Slade nodded.

"Good thing. If his intentions had been to fornicate with a metal rod, I do not think he would have announced it quite so loudly," the prince deadpanned.

Slade very nearly burst out laughing, but managed to keep it down to a low chuckle.

"If we should ask the for the trader and get the inspection on the way, Your Highness?" Alfred suggested in a somewhat strained voice.

Wintergreen came out to meet them, acting surprised as he bowed to the prince.

"Your Highness! What an honor! I didn't expect you as a guest."

"This is not a visit as such, this is an inspection," Robin said and dismounted. Slade followed suit and walked up to the prince like the obedient and devoted pet he was. William had gestured for some of the young boys in the camp to take the horses. "You two," the prince added to two of his guards, "begin going through the camp from this end. Ask questions but I don't want any trouble, no one is suspected of any crime, remember that. You two," he added to the next pair, "do the same from the other end, and the rest will come with me."

"We're only keeping two guards?" one of the nobles said, looking around like he was surrounded by wild beasts.

"Oh, don't worry," Robin said and patted Slade's arm. "We have my slave. Do you really think anyone would want to challenge him?" he asked while attaching the leash to the collar once more. That calmed the two nobles a little bit.

The inspection was probably very dull for the rest of the company, but Robin found it interesting. He was guided through the camp by Trader Wintergreen and took the opportunity to ask questions about the north, verifying some of the things his slave had spoken about. It turned out that Slade had told the truth, which pleased the prince. He liked that the man wasn't ignorant and illiterate, it made him more interesting, after all, and better company. He discovered something odd about the caravan, though.

"There are no women here?"

"No, My Lord, that is according to our traditions. When it comes to trading, they have their own caravans, selling fabrics, spices, herbs, pottery and such, while the men focus on metalwork."

"So the women travel alone? Unprotected?" Robin blinked.

"When it comes to the women of Blüdhaven, they are never unprotected." the trader grinned. "They are taught to fight as well, just as we men are taught to cook and care for the young. We do have separate areas of responsibility, just like most cultures, but life in the mountains used to be hard and everyone had to help where they could. Some of the borders between the genders were, if not completely erased, at least partly rubbed out."

"How barbaric!" one of the nobles snorted. "A woman with a sword!"

"It makes sense to me," Robin shrugged, which shut the young man up. "Well, unless my men have found something, I can't see that anything is out of order here," the prince went on. "Maybe we should move on to more pleasant talks. I'd like you to show me some blades, Trader. If I like what I see, I might buy one for the King, and, perhaps, a sword for myself as well."

"It would be an honor, My Lord," the trader bowed and showed them the way. A little while later a row of swords of different kinds were laid out on a long table.

"If I may ask, what type of sword does His Majesty prefer?" the trader asked.

"The rapier," Robin answered and picked one up. "I can't judge how it will sit in his hand, though."

"Well, what kind of build does he have?" Wintergreen asked.

"He's almost as tall as Slade here. Not as muscular, but not slender either," the prince explained.

"Then why not let the slave decide? He is good with swords, after all," the trader suggested. "And may I say, My Lord, that I'm very happy to see that you seem to approve of him."

"He was a good gift," Robin all but grinned. "He's very… dutiful. Once I put him in his place," he added, and handed the sword to the man.

"Yes, well, they always need to be broken in a bit, even the good ones," the trader shrugged.

"I've noticed," Robin smirked. "So, how is the blade, Slade?"

"It's good, Master, but I've seen His Majesty's build, and this is not for him. May I try the rest of them out?"

"Yes, go ahead," Robin nodded. "I'll go speak with the men in the meanwhile, and it seems some of my company are eager to go back for lunch."

"Ah, but you must eat with us, My Lord! We cannot hope to rival the food, or surroundings, of Wayne Castle, of course, but having a royal guest would do us great honor!"

Robin hesitated. His interest in the strange country in the mountains had only grown the more he found out, and he didn't particularly mind. What his so called friends would think, though, was another matter. They would probably suffer as he had already heard complaints about the harsh sun and wind, although the weather was perfectly fine. He grinned a little to himself and accepted the offer.

When he told his entourage that they would be having lunch at the camp, they were horrified, but, apart from pleading to the prince's better judgment, they could do nothing but accept as well.

While Robin talked to his supposed friends, William and Slade were left alone and had a quick conversation.

"Everything going well, My Lord?" Wintergreen asked.

"I've _missed_ being called that," Slade answered dryly, "and yes, I already have a few answers. I need to see much more of the castle though, and of the routines of the court. I'll give you word long enough for you to send the children home." The youngest in the caravan were only eleven, and even though the boys and young men had been brought to get some experience and see the world, they were never intended to stay around for the actual attack. If Slade and his men failed, the guards would be attacking their camp, and the children, next. Therefore the youngsters would be sent away a day, or preferably two, before the other's tried to take the castle. For now they were doing a great job helping out around the camp and, of course, as messengers. No one noticed a child running through the streets, after all. Also they provided a bit of cover; a caravan filled with just armed men would look more suspicious.

"Yes, I'll give them a light wagon with a couple of fast horses and enough provisions to easily get them home, as we planned. I've had young Thomas study the maps with me, he knows the way."

"Good," Slade nodded, and then, at a signal from his friend, began talking about the blades.

"So, Slade, how is it going?" the prince asked, coming up behind them.

"Very well, Master, I think I've found the perfect one for His Majesty," the man answered and handed the young man the sword he had picked out, which was, in fact, perfect for the king. Slade wanted the gift to be well received, after all, and, in turn, be appreciated for his choice.

"Then I'll take it. But first I think I want to look at one for myself as well," Robin said.

"A rapier for you too, Your Highness?" Wintergreen asked.

"Hm… no. I've mostly had training with those and lighter swords, but I'm very curious about those ones," the prince said and pointed towards a row of sturdier broadswords. Their basket-hilts were works of art, the engravings depicting everything from twisting dragons to plants and animals.

"Good choice. Let's find you one, Master," Slade nodded in approval.

"I'll leave you to it and go see about some food, My Lord," the trader bowed.

The slave handed Robin sword after sword, comparing the length, the handle and the weight, until they had finally chosen one, fittingly enough with engraved horses on the hilt.

"If my fencing instructor isn't familiar with these swords, will you teach me to use it?" the prince said, so engrossed in admiring his new weapon that he didn't realized that he was asking instead of ordering.

"It would be my honor and pleasure, Master," Slade agreed. If nothing else, he might be able to cause the prince some bruises for once, instead of the other way around. There were still places on his skin which smarted slightly, even today.

Robin almost changed his mind about having lunch at the camp when it turned out that they would be eating outdoors around a fire, sitting or leaning against logs on the ground. Seeing the other nobles all but faint, however, he steeled himself behind a smirk and ordered Slade to sit down first. After the man had, Robin simply took a seat on one of his thighs, thus avoiding the ground altogether. His friends didn't have the same luxury and glared daggers at him as they had to dirty their breeches on the sooty logs.

"Men, feel free to join us. Alfred, you as well of course," Robin said and gestured to the empty logs.

"We're eating with the guards?!" one of the nobles all but screeched.

"Oh, hush, we're all guests here," the prince snapped. "And where would you have them eat? In a hole in the ground?"

"This is beneath my dign-"

"Not another word!" Robin barked, his voice having his so called friends jump. "If you don't like it, you are free to leave. You're not going to be allowed to bring any guards with you for protection, though. …or to show you the way…" the blueblood added the last part under his breath, so quietly that only Slade could hear him.

The large pot on the fire spread a very mouthwatering smell, at least, and soon they each were served a bowl of what appeared to be a beef stew. They had a spoon and a slice of bread as well, and were then served a flagon of some sort of ale.

"Watch out, Master, it's very strong," Slade warned him quietly. Robin nodded and passed the warning on to Alfred, who let the guards know as well. No one bothered to raise their voices so the young nobles heard them, though. The prince could almost believe it was an oversight. Almost.

"This is delicious," he said to Slade, who had positioned himself so he could eat as well, despite a member of the royal court sitting on his lap. "What is it called?"

"It's a northern dish we call collops," the man answered. "It can be made in a variety of ways, from different meats, depending on what you have."

"I like it. Maybe I should go to a diplomatic journey to the north… find out what more delights you are hiding and visit that mysterious king of yours," Robin grinned.

"I'm sure he'd love having you, Master," Slade deadpanned.

"Well, as a guest or my head…" the prince shrugged, "I'm not exactly sure how bad our diplomatic relationship is right now…"

"You can't mean it, Robin!" one of the nobles who had overheard the conversation, gasped. "Going into the mountains among the savages?"

"You are right, Lord Riley, that would be madness," Robin nodded.

"Yes, My Lord, it-"

"I'd better send you first. Establish relations. Very important," the prince continued. Both of his companions were very quiet after that, not too sure if he had made a joke or not.

After the meal Robin approached the trader. "I have chosen two swords that I wish to buy. Could you give me the price, please?"

"They are my gift to you, My Lord," the trader bowed.

"If you insist, but I had every intention of paying for them," the prince frowned.

"Yes, of course, My Lord, but if you would be so good as to mention, if someone should ask, where you got them, that would be more than enough, I assure you."

Robin's lips stretched in a small smirk. "I see. Yes. I'll do that. I- oh!"

Slade followed Robin's line of vision as the young man had just seemed to freeze. A man was leading one of their horses to the smithy to be shoed. The rest of their steeds were gathered in a makeshift paddock further down the river to be able to graze and rest in peace, always guarded by a few men, just in case, because there was a reason the prince was gaping.

"He's… he's _beautiful_… and _enormous_…" the young man just left the group and slowly walked up to the horse, fearlessly presenting his hand to be sniffed. The stallion was as black as coal, apart from a white star on his forehead, which bled down into a thin stripe down his nose. The prince's so called friends again gasped in horror, but Slade, who followed his little master, knew there was no danger; the young man had read the horse perfectly. Besides, this particular big brute was a bit of a softy when it came to attention. Slade should know. It was one of his. "He's as big as those lumbering plow horses, but his build is nothing like theirs, so much more agile… I've never seen anything like him before…" the young man went on.

"He's a Blüdhaven War Horse," Slade explained.

"War horse?" the prince asked, frowning.

"They are used to pull carts as well, their muscular build gives them both strength, endurance and speed."

"I thought mountain horses were small… nimble… how does one like these even find enough food up there?"

"Not all of Blüdhaven is rock, Master," Slade grinned. "Although, some old tales say that horses like these can eat stone as well, if they need to, and drink mist."

"I can almost believe that," Robin chuckled, completely enamored with the beast who was snuffling his hair, wetting it with its breath. "What is his name?" he asked the young man holding the reins.

"Um. 'Slayer', Sir," he was told.

Robin chuckled softly. "Well, a good name for a 'war horse', I guess. I want to ride him!"

"Maybe we can find a saddle…" Slade said hesitantly. They had saddles, hidden in the ceilings of the caravans, along with their armor, but he'd rather not risk anything by letting the young man see one of those, as they were clearly for battle, with fastenings for swords, shields and spears. Besides, Slayer could be a bit picky about riders.

"No need, and he's already wearing a bridle. Kneel down, on one knee," the prince ordered. Slade obeyed, although less willingly here, as his men could see him, and then the prince's foot was first on his thigh and then his shoulder for a moment before the young man swung himself up on the horse which was so tall that he hadn't been able to see over his back from the ground. "Amazing," he breathed, and then gathered the reins. "I'll be back soon!" with that he dug his heels in and was off.

"Oh, dear…" Alfred muttered. "That can never end well."

But it did. Half an hour later the prince returned with the widest smile Slade had ever seen him wear. The man helped the young man down, and the prince immediately turned to Wintergreen.

"I want him! Name your price."

The northerners did have a few extra horses, of course, but couldn't afford to lose one needlessly. Wintergreen glanced at Slade who shook his head just a fraction.

"I am terribly sorry, My Lord, but all the horses are part of the teams we need for our wagons. Replacing one would not work, especially with a smaller or less strong horse from the plains."

"_Any_ price, Trader," the prince frowned, not used to be told 'no'.

"Again, I'm terribly sorry. Our horses are all but sacred to us. They are not for sale."

If Slade had expected the young prince to throw a tantrum, he was wrong. Robin wasn't happy with the answer, not at all, but he didn't insist.

"Very well. If you change your mind, send word to the castle. And I want to see you before you leave here. I will own a horse like this, and I want to arrange the trade with you, for when you return to your country. That is not too much to ask, is it?"

"Certainly not, My Lord. I can have several of our finest stock brought here for you to choose from. I'll make the trip myself as well."

"Good man. You'll be staying here for some time, however, won't you?"

"As long as the business is good, but at least a month. The men and beasts need to rest before the return journey."

"Maybe I can visit you and ride again?"

"It would be my honor, Your Highness," Wintergreen bowed deeply. "And then you can choose among our horses, of course."

"No, I want _him_…" Robin smiled and leaned against his new love. His smile then turned into a grin, and he patted Slade's chest. "Don't be jealous, the horse reminds me of you," he all but snickered. "Doesn't he?" he added to his friends who snickered along with him.

"Maybe you should saddle your slave instead?" one of them suggested.

"Maybe I should," Robin agreed. "Just to see how far he would be able to carry me, and how fast…" Then he seemed to get an idea. "What if any of my horses were in heat? Would you let Slayer breed them? I noticed he's a stallion?"

"Of course, My Lord," the Trader nodded with a grin. "Far be it from me to deny a male that kind of activity." Slayer was indeed a stallion. It was more common to use geldings in wars, because they were less likely to act up and call out to other horses in critical situations, but the Blüdhaven horses were exceptionally well trained, and this one was no exception.

Robin was glad that he had heard Slade say worse by now, so he didn't blush.

"I will ask the Stable Master at once when I return, and I'll send you word. Now it is high time for us to depart, however. Goodbye Trader Wintergreen, it's been a very interesting morning."

"Goodbye, Your Highness, may your sword serve you well."

Slade gave his friend a glance. That was quite a powerful blessing, especially given to a man you planned to slay. Wintergreen just gave a tiny shrug back, however, which could mean anything.

The ride back was amusing, as the two nobles, who had been drinking the ale like it was lemonade, fell off their horses twice each until the guards had to steady them. Robin was grateful to his slave for warning him about the strength of the beverage but even he felt just a little bit dizzy. The stew had been spicy, after all, and he had to take the sting off _somehow_. He probably should have eaten more of the bread instead.

With the horse still at the front of his mind, Robin called for the Stable Master at once, and received good news. One of his best mares was showing the first signs of heat. Excited, the prince sent one of the stable hands back to the camp to tell the trader, and arranged for word to be sent to all parties when the time was right.

After that, leaving Alfred and the others behind, Robin led Slade away by his leash. The man had been trusted with carrying the swords, which were wrapped up, but the slave noticed that they weren't taking the expected route.

"Aren't we going back to your rooms, Master?" the man asked.

"No. Not quite yet. We're going to go see the King," the prince answered, his mood suddenly darker. "I have a few things to discuss with him."

They entered the throne room, but the king was not there. One of his attendants directed them to the man's private study, however. Robin wanted to speak to him privately so this was a good opportunity to do so, it seemed. The monarch, however, didn't appear to agree.

"I'm very busy at the moment, Robin," he told the prince after they had greeted each other.

"When are you not? I won't take up much of your time. I just wanted to report that the inspection is done, and nothing incriminating was discovered. Also, I have a gift for you." Robin took the sword, wrapped in a piece of cloth, from Slade and handed it to the king. The man unwrapped it and studied it closely.

"It is a very fine sword, these people know what they are doing," he nodded.

"They do. They are exceptionally good at metal work," the prince said. "I hoped you would appreciate it," he added, although the king, strictly speaking, hadn't thanked him. "There is one more thing, though. I'm turning eighteen in two months…"

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Isn't the planning for the celebration going well?"

"It is."

"Well then? Is this about the engagement? Have you found anyone?"

"No, it's not about that. It's about…" the prince drew a deep breath. "Bruce, it's about how I was found. Who my real parents are. I'm about to become an adult, I think I have the right to know now."

The king's eyes narrowed for just a moment, and then he put the sword down on his desk, almost like he couldn't stand the sight of it anymore. He sat down and shuffled some papers. "I'm busy, Robin."

"Too busy to tell me the truth?" the young man growled.

"It's in the past. Let it be. It doesn't change anything; not who you are and not your destiny. Understood?"

"I know! I don't care if my parents were farmers or slaves or whatever! Or if my mother was a woman you bedded, but I want to know!"

"I'm not your real father, Robin, I thought we were clear on that."

"Y-yes, but… there's rumors of this noble woman, who…"

"No."

Robin swallowed. He knew he wasn't the king's biological son, but the rumors had still been there, whispered, since he was a child, and, deep down, he had wished for them to be true. To actually_ have_ a father. He had spun stories about how Bruce fell in love with a beautiful servant girl and planned to run away with her, as they couldn't marry, but then she died in childbed, and his grief had made it hard for the king to love his son as a real father. But that was just a fantasy, a dream. Robin realized that now. The hard voice and the look in the king's cold, pale blue eyes said it all.

"I see. So you deny me my right to know about my roots?" the prince said tensely.

"They are not your roots anymore. When you were adopted by me you became a Prince of the Realm, and that is what you now are. Nothing else."

"But I'm about to become an adult, and I know nothing!" Robin almost pleaded. "I don't even know how old I was when I came here!"

"Even _I_ don't know _that_," the king said dismissingly.

"But…" the young man looked stunned. "My birthday…?"

"It's your adoption date. You were a very small child, but if you were a week or a month old, I don't know. We choose the day of your adoption instead of guessing."

"It's… I don't even have a_ real_ _birthday_?" the prince stuttered.

"It's just a date, what does it matter?"

"But you never TOLD me!"

"I didn't think it was important. And I don't appreciate you raising your voice to me, especially as you insisted on dragging your pet with you. Are you through with your childish questions? I have work to do."

"Yes. I'm quite through. I have a fencing lesson to attend," the young man said, no emotion at all in his voice now.

"Then go. You know better than to be tardy," the king snorted and gestured at the door before ignoring them completely in favor of his papers.

Slade wished he could use the sword and finish the king off right here and now. He was armed and they were alone, after all, but unfortunately there were rules and regulations he needed to follow if he in fact wanted to take over Gotham and not just start a war. He couldn't help but fantasize about it, though, although he only pictured the king's death, not the prince's. It wasn't because of any attachment, however, but because Slade was actually appalled on the prince's behalf. He had known the young man was adopted, yes, but had had no idea that his origin was kept a secret from him. The King of Blüdhaven found himself taking the side of his young enemy in this: why wouldn't the king tell him? Would it taint the house of Wayne somehow? Hurt relations with other powerful families? A man ought to know where he came from, that was something Slade felt to the core. Even so, and even though he was slightly curious, it was still something he wouldn't have spent much further thought, but it created a very good opportunity for him. This was not the time to speak to his 'master' however, because he was, clearly, not in the mood. Especially judging by the way he was slapping his riding crop against his boot while walking.

The man had paid close attention to their surroundings the whole time, not knowing how many opportunities he would have to be able to see this part of the castle. All the major entryways had guards, but they seemed to be stationed there more to keep curious commoners out than to fight off attackers, and, due to this, most looked pretty bored. Even the prince seemed to notice this, and decided to vent his anger, because his riding crop suddenly snapped against the chest plate of one of them.

"Straighten up!" was all the young man barked before continuing on. Slade smirked at the other man's horrified expression. That guard would not slouch for at least a week, and, once word got around, neither would any of his friends...

_To Be Continued…._

* * *

A/N: About the term "broadsword" please don't picture one a' la' Conan the Barbarian, because those kinds of more "impressive" swords are usually what's called longswords (also spelled long sword/long-sword). The kind Robin picked out, however, was called broadswords because they were somewhat broader than the rapier, so look them up on Wikipedia for pictures, and marvel at the beautiful basket-hilts as well… ;)


	5. It is Not Enough For a Man To Learn How

A/N: thank you to **Yaoigurl12 **who edited this chapter for me! As usual, especially since I make changes at the last moment, any remaining errors are mine…

Also, I use some of my readers names in this story (with permission)… can't tell you who's since they are their real names, but you know who you are.. .;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 5: It is Not Enough For a Man To Learn How To Ride; He Must Learn How To Fall**

The walk to the training hall had given Robin some time to compose himself. He was shaken to the core, but he would not break down in public. It was bad enough that he had done so during the ride yesterday. Luckily only his slave had seen him, and, it appeared, had forgiven him. But why wouldn't he? Robin was not going to apologize. He might have done something wrong, but he knew people who beat their horses. That was just disgraceful. Slade was his slave, and, at least according to Duke Blackgate, it was practically the man's _duty_ to take the wrath of his master. A knot in the pit of his stomach, however, told the prince that trying to rectify it that way, wasn't completely working. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't apologize, though. He was a prince. Slade was a slave. It was impossible. Maybe some more clothes, as a gesture…?

As they had just arrived at the hall, a low, practically empty, building at the back of the castle, the prince didn't have time to mull things over any more. The training hall had tall windows along the side not butting up against the main castle, letting in the light, but it wasn't heated, meaning that it could be bitter cold in the winters. Now, in early spring, that cold still radiated from the walls. Robin would rather have practiced outside, in one of the courtyards perhaps, but that wouldn't do for a prince. At least that's what Bruce had told him. Thinking of the man again made the young man's anger surface slightly once more, and when he was greeted by a snotty expression on his tutor's face, that didn't help.

"There you are, Your Highness. Punctuality is a virtue, I always say, but not all of us seem to think so," he sneered. Swords Master Warner was a thin balding man of average height, not someone that would look impressive on the battlefield, but in the sport of fencing he had been a champion. Robin respected him for that and loathed him for his snide attitude. The man's eyes then landed on the slave. "And who is this man?"

"He's my slave and he's also a swordsman," the prince said, taking his new blade from Slade and showing it to the tutor. "I want to learn how to handle this."

"A broadsword?" the Warner all but spat. "That's not a sword for the nobility! That's the crude weapon of soldiers and the lower class! Cavalry's use them, for heaven's sake! They are for _slaughter _not sport!"

"I wish to learn how to _fight_," the prince said. "I know all kinds of swords are kept here," he added, indicating a wall full of training swords of all shapes, materials and sizes. "Is the _foil_ really the better weapon?"

"Of course it is!" the tutor snorted.

"Fine. Prove it. Here you go, Slade," the prince said and handed the sword to the slave, handle first.

"Wh-what is the meaning of this?" Warner asked, looking worried.

"I want to learn the better weapon, from the better man. Whoever wins will be my tutor from now on," Robin said, sounding almost bored, but that was his anger still boiling under the surface. "Begin!"

The fight was short, pathetically so. To the fencer's defense, he _did _try, but it wasn't really fair to put something that was merely a sport up against the real thing. When the instructor's sword flew out of his hands and Slade's blade was at his throat, Robin stopped the fight by raising a hand.

"That settles it. Sword Master, your services are no longer required. You may leave. Talk to Alfred tomorrow and he will give you a letter of recommendation."

"But… but… Your Highness…?" the balding man tried.

"Leave! Now!" Robin snapped, "Or do I need to call the guards?"

The man left then, of course, giving the prince a hateful glare.

"There," the prince said, turning to the slave. "Teach me."

"Yes, Master, but to do that I must be allowed to speak and act freely. I cannot correct you as your slave," Slade told the young man, more or less only to get a respite from acting meekly, because he was very, very tired of it.

"You 'must', do you?" Robin frowned, but he did see the reason behind it. "Fine. Inside these walls you may act as my tutor, but," he added and poked the man in the chest with his finger, "I still demand respect."

"Of course, Master," Slade nodded. "I'll go pick out some practice swords. You should put on some protective padding."

"Will that be necessary?" the prince asked.

Slade turned back and smirked at him over his shoulder. "Oh, yes."

Robin's mood darkened a little bit at that smirk, but he didn't comment. He had given the man permission to tutor him, after all, and one lesson wouldn't hurt.

He was wrong.

Slade found a couple of blunt practice swords of the same kind of length and weight as Robin's. He would use a broad sword as well, although he preferred the longsword himself. The prince, however, didn't have the height and the strength to handle one of those at this time.

In the meanwhile Robin had strapped on the 'armor' made of coarse linen stuffed with horsehair. He had picked out a chest piece and wrist guards. There were more pieces, like head and leg protection, but the prince had never had to use any more than this, and he couldn't see the need for even this much.

"Here you go, Master," the slave said and handed him one of the swords. He naturally hadn't dropped the titles, a tutor was still just a tutor after all. "I suggest we'll start out with some free style fencing, just to find out how good you are."

"Aren't you going to wear any padding?"

"No, Your Highness. I don't need to. You're not going to be able to touch me."

"Is that so?" the prince growled and attacked.

Unfortunately, it turned out Slade had been right. Whatever Robin tried was blocked easily, and the sword was almost yanked out of his hands a few times by the sheer power behind the moves.

Slade saw the agility and speed in Robin that might make him a good swordsman one day, but his style was laughable. He took stances. He moved from one position to another like it was a dance, making him completely predictable. He held the sword like he was waving a feather in the air, and he left himself almost completely open to attack. It was time to teach the boy what happened when he did. The man let his sword connect with the prince's upper arm. Not hard enough to cause any real damage, but certainly hard enough to bruise. The little noble _owed_ him some bruises. The reaction, however, wasn't anything like Slade had expected. He had thought the young man would get angry, enraged even, but instead he stepped back, lowered his sword completely, cradled his upper arm and gaped.

"You… you… _hit_ me!"

"Yes, of course I hit you, Master, we're_ fighting_," Slade said, trying not to chuckle at the prince's sunned expression.

"Warner never did!"

"Warner was teaching you how to wave a stick prettily in the air," Slade pointed out. "But how in the world was he even able to do _that _without making contact?"

"He said 'point'," Robin answered and started to feel foolish. He could see the corners of the man's mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh, which was infuriating. "Besides, you only get points for hits to the chest, not the arms!" he added.

"We're not fighting for points here; we're fighting for our_ lives_. Would you like me to teach you that, or do you prefer having someone shout 'point' at you?" Again, the expected explosion never came. Instead Robin, after a moment, straightened up.

"Teach me."

* * *

"Your Highness, you are late for- oh my!"

Robin, after making a gesture to Slade that they were taking a break, looked over to see Alfred standing in the door.

"Yes?" he asked.

"My Lord, you're bleeding! Your nose-!"

"It's fine, the bleeding has stopped," the prince shrugged. He was drenched in sweat and both fighters had been down to their shirtsleeves for at least an hour now.

"Did he injure you? I'll call the guards!" the valet exclaimed.

"No, Alfred, I'm fine, and besides… I… managed to do this to myself…" the prince looked bashful, and he should. He had attacked the man with everything he got, and his own sword had simply bounced off the man's blade and smacked him on the nose. He had also stubbed his little toe on it a little later. But now even his tutor was remarking that he was getting better.

"Are you absolutely sure, My Lord?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"Ah, in that case. Your fencing lesson should have been over two hours ago. The kitchen is starting to wonder what to do about dinner?"

"Oh. I didn't realize it's been so long," Robin admitted and then felt his own stomach rumble. "I'm starving. Tell them to take dinner to my room, enough for Slade as well, we both look too much of a mess to eat among others," the prince said after a glance at his slave.

"I dare say you do," the old man mumbled.

"Oh, and I fired Warner."

"You did what? My lord, you father will not like-" the valet began.

"Then my father can fight my slave about it," Robin grinned proudly.

To Slade's annoyance Robin put the leash back on as they left the training hall. He wondered how the boy would feel if it was the other way around… At least they headed straight for the young man's rooms this time, and by what seemed like back routes, where they didn't run in to more than a few servants. Being shown the route was very useful. The castle was huge, and, apart from several separate buildings, like the stables and the hall, it had also 'swallowed up' buildings in the past, where they had been joined together. That and rebuilds had created a layout that wasn't quite logical and quite hard to navigate. The building also had a small open courtyard in the middle, so if you were on any of the upper floors, it wasn't easy to take a shortcut. Some corridors also ended suddenly, where the builders of the time had either run out of money, material or life, and then the following generations had just gotten used to it. All this made it so much more important for Slade to find out exactly where he should lead his men and at what day and time. But to do that he couldn't be led around like a pet all the time. Things needed to change, and soon it might be the right time to present his idea to the prince.

Robin smiled at the sight of thick slices of roasted chicken, potatoes and gravy. He ate at a table in the sitting room, where he usually dined when he did so alone, and Slade had his meal in the bedroom. It was one thing to share a meal with a slave outdoors, but quite different in his own rooms. Besides, they had company. Alfred and a few servants were bustling around, preparing a bath for the prince, and for the slave as well. An extra copper sitting bath had been brought into the bathroom and was being filled with water, as Robin couldn't have a smelly slave, after all.

After all the servants, apart from Alfred, had left and he had finished his dinner he let the valet help him undress and sank into the bath.

"Thank you. Take Slade's clothes with you as well, they need to be washed too, and then you can leave. I wish to soak here for a while and then go to sleep," Robin said, not mentioning certain other plans he had.

"As you wish, Sir, but you don't need any assistance?"

"Slade can help me, he has before," the prince told the old man.

"I'm at your service, Master," the man said from behind the valet. When Robin could see him he realized that he had gotten undressed, and was holding out his clothes for Alfred to take. The valet did so hurriedly, eyes strictly looking forwards, and then left.

"I think your valet is a bit of a prude, Master," the slave chuckled.

"We_ all_ are here, remember?" Robin muttered, trying not to look as well. "Wash up while I soak and then help me with my hair."

"Yes, Master," Slade nodded and soaked his hair first, washing and rinsing it before stepping into his own tub. It was a bit small, but the hot water felt very good. He wasn't allowed to enjoy it for too long, however, in case the prince got impatient.

After scrubbing down thoroughly he stood up and rinsed off, using a bucket of clean water, before sweeping a linen towel around his waist after using it to dry off. The warmth from the roaring fire next door reached in here too, so Slade didn't freeze as he sat down on a low stool next to the prince's tub and began washing his hair. When his fingers had the young man mumbling in pleasure, Slade decided it was time.

"Master, there is something on my mind. Something I was hoping you would allow me to help you with."

"M-hm?" Robin asked.

"I have to admit that I was shocked when hearing that His Majesty would not tell you of your real background," Slade began. He already felt the young man tense under him, so he continued quickly. "Now, I don't know who else might know the truth, but I _do_ know that servants talk. And they overhear things. If you want me to, I can try to find out the truth for you?"

"You… you think you can?" Robin asked.

"There is always a chance. As long as I can move around the castle freely now and then, so I can befriend and talk to the other slaves and servants." This was, of course,_ all_ Slade wanted to do, but the prince's history had gotten him curious, so he would actually try to find out more. Besides, the subject was probably hot gossip among the servants and it _might _matter in the takeover, if some nobleman would suddenly claim that the prince was his true son. Slade wasn't aware of any situation like that ever occurring before, and it might lead to problems with him taking over the country. Or he just might have to slaughter another family…

"I would be grateful," the prince said as he almost thoughtfully began to clean himself with a washcloth. "What do you want in exchange?"

"Nothing, Master," Slade said, trying to sound somewhat shocked as he did. "I am your slave. I made the offer because I feel that you were wronged."

"Then I allow you to try. I will let you have some free time from now on, but I expect you to be back when I require you to."

"Of course, Master," Slade said and rinsed the young man's hair.

Robin was lost in thought as he washed himself while his slave was drying his hair with a small towel. He knew that trying to find out something that his father had explicitly refused to tell him, might be considered spying, maybe even treason. This was _his_ past, however, and every fiber in his being screamed out that he had the right to know.

"Alfred knows," he said. "He's under oath not to tell anyone, though, so don't pressure him. There's no use. Some of the oldest soldiers have been with my father from that time, I always had a feeling they knew as well. They might be a better source."

"Do you know any names?"

"Conrad, for sure… and Sinclair, McCormack and probably Bailey. They are still in service as far as I know."

"Thank you, Master, that will help. Please point them out to me if you have the opportunity?"

"Of course. I'm ready to get out now, would you help me rinse off?"

Slade did, and then he noticed how Robin pulled a plug out from the bottom of the bath, making the water rush out. He hadn't noticed that before.

"There is a drain?" he asked.

"Yes, it just leads outside," the prince shrugged, not overly concerned about where his bathwater went. "There's none in yours, of course, so just leave it and the servants will take care of it tomorrow morning," he continued as he stepped out of the bath completely.

"I could do it for them, it wouldn't take long," Slade offered.

"No," the prince said quite decisively and then smirked, taking hold of the man's towel. "I have other plans for you."

Slade hoped his smirk looked more like a grin. It seemed the young man had developed quite an appetite for him, or, at least, for what he _did_ for him. Well, no surprise. Slade remembered when he had discovered masturbation, and at times it seemed like he hadn't let go of his dick for a year. Well. At twelve, what else was there to do?

The prince brought him into the bedroom, both of them dressed in only loosely wrapped towels, and then, with the smallest tint of pink across his cheeks, Robin turned around to face the man.

"I think you know what I want."

"Yes, I believe I do. A blow job."

"Is that's what it's called?" the prince blinked.

"Yes. Or sucking. There are fancier words for it, however, those are merely the ones I'm used to… but… if I might offer a recommendation?"

"Yes?"

"The time on the ride, and last night, those were_ mere_ blow jobs. There are so much _more_. I can show you, if you allow me to tutor you in this as well?"

"More?" the prince said, and then shook his head. "I think I see what you mean, but the code of conduct-"

"I've heard about this thing… hands and mouth, is that correct?"

"Well.. yes," Robin nodded, not wanting to go into any detail, and glad that the man knew.

"Still, there are things I can do with my hands and mouth only, that I think you'll appreciate," the man grinned and stepped closer to the young man, caressing the prince's naked shoulder with his fingertips, moving in towards the slim column of his throat. "The pleasure will last longer, Master," he said huskily, "and it will take you to higher peaks… Let me show you."

"I… I'm not sure…" Robin said. Wouldn't anything more be… too much? Give the slave too much control over him? But if this was what _everyone_ was doing…? The slave didn't seem to think he needed to wait for permission, however, because he swooped down and kissed the juncture of Robin's neck. Hard. He almost bit down. And it felt amazing. Still, Robin had to put him in his place.

"Stop! Kneel!" he barked and pushed at the man's chest. He thought he heard a low grumbling sound, but the man obeyed, which calmed the prince down a bit. He was still in control. "Good," he said, and couldn't help but smile, as he placed a hand on the man's head, running his fingers through his hair. "You have my permission. Show me these… 'peaks'. You may rise."

"Thank you, Master. You won't regret it," the man said and led him towards the bed. "Lay down."

"I'm not sure if-"

"Master." Robin recognized that tone of voice. It was the same one Alfred used when he thought the prince was being difficult, but couldn't openly chastise him. By experience the young man knew that the voice meant he really _was_ wrong, so he gave in and climbed into bed.

Slade knew he shouldn't smirk, because the prince would not take that well, but having the young man spread out naked under him… well, it was damn hard not to. He traced kisses from his shoulder inwards, soft and teasing this time, just to make sure he didn't make the young man defensive again. He had wanted the aristocrat since the moment he saw him, but it wasn't really about lust at this point. It was about control. After being led around on a leash, beaten and humiliated, the man needed the prince to do as _he_ wanted for a change. And, the prince would eventually have to learn that in bed, Slade was _always_ in charge.

He was, of course, not unfamiliar with having sex with men. He liked both genders the same, but what he was attracted to was a certain amount of… spunk. His late wife had had it in gallons. She had been a warrior when they first met, and even after their first child was born, she remained wild and hotheaded. Slade had fought hard to keep the country together and in peace, for the sole reason that he didn't want his wife in the middle of any battle, because that was where she _would _be, and he wouldn't be able to stop her. In the end, however, she hadn't died in a fight, but from a fever she had gotten after their second son was born. She had battled that valiantly as well, but there had been no cure.

Robin was a weakling compared to her, but there was _something_ there… something Slade had seen glimpses of in the young man's eyes that spoke of something more, something fiercer, held in by conventions and a strict upbringing. He was sure that, if the prince would ever have gotten a chance to see battle, this side would have blossomed.

Sex wasn't a battle, not exactly anyway, but the man wondered if he couldn't use it to unlock a little bit of what he had come to think of as the 'real' prince. If not… well, he would have fun trying.

He slowly got on top of the young man, just holding himself up on his knees and hands, careful not to put any pressure on the little doll… who might just beat the shit out of him if he did. He continued kissing the young man's neck, and, judging by the way he arched, he liked that. Slade felt his towel slid off completely, but didn't try to recover it, as the prince's was more or less off as well by now, only having a corner of if covering the essentials. When his kisses reached the prince's jaw, he traced it until he drew away just slightly.

"I'm going to kiss your lips now, Master. I assume that's not… forbidden?"

Robin already felt flushed, excitement tingling through his body, and he nodded in agreement. He had actually _seen _a kiss once, while walking into the stables when he was ten. It had been between a stable hand and a kitchen maid, and they had married later, making the young boy suspect that they must have _liked _doing that. Kissing was also the only remotely sexual act that was ever depicted or even described in stories. Love-stories always ended with a kiss, or a kiss and a wedding, and in most drawings and paintings and couples were mostly just holding hands or standing close to each other.

Seeing was one thing, though, and experiencing it another. It made his stomach flutter.

"Close your eyes," the slave whispered, and, automatically, the prince obeyed. He felt a light brush against his lips and almost gasped from it. Then a longer touch. Then the man's lips parted and he was teasing Robin's bottom lip, sucking lightly on it. He parted his own lips, just slightly at first, and moved them like Slade did. Then he felt something wet. It startled him and he drew back slightly, blinking up at the man, but the slave only slid a hand into his hair, grabbing it and holding it still, before reclaiming the prince's lips determinedly.

The man enjoyed the kiss greatly, not that the boy was any good yet, but because Slade was in charge. Completely. He barely let the prince breathe as he plundered his mouth, feeling the young man's hands slide around his body and cling to him. Instead of kneeling awkwardly on the bed next to the prince, Slade put first one, and then both his knees between the young man's, making him spread his legs, distracting him with kisses in the mean time. Only when he was in a better, more comfortable, position, did he let up. His 'victim', however, didn't agree.

"More!" the prince moaned, grabbed the man's head and pulled him down again. This was exhilarating! Robin was eager to learn every move, but was a bit shy about using his tongue at first. Now he pushed back, however, slowly exploring the man's lips and mouth.

Slade was pleased with the progress but didn't want to spend the whole night giving kissing lessons. Instead he moved the kissing downwards. The prince first mewled a bit in protest, but changed his tone when the man encountered a nipple and sucked it into his mouth.

Robin liked his nipples. He had probably spent more time playing with them than his penis. He liked tugging on them, tickling them, making them hard, but having them_ sucked_ was a whole new level of pleasure, especially when the man let go and blew on them, making them rock hard and icy cold. The youth's hips began thrusting upwards slightly, looking for something which, he presumed, was the slave's mouth. He could feel that he had gotten hard, but something else felt somewhat weird. Something was pushing against his thigh. Something hot and moist.

Robin raised his head to look down, and then gasped.

"You're… you're erect!"

"Well? So are you," Slade pointed out calmly, hoping he hadn't freaked the young man out. _Again_.

"Are… are you _allowed_ to?"

Slade mostly had no idea what a bedroom slave could and couldn't do, especially in this strange country. Everything he had told the prince had been him bluffing, just for his own benefit, and that seemed to have served him well so far, so he decided to stay on the same track.

"Of course, Master, after all, it shows that you are desirable. Many of my former masters enjoyed making me reach climax as well."

"Really? Why?" the prince asked innocently.

"Oh, to prove themselves, I suppose. And to become better lovers for their partners."

"Well, I intend to marry a _woman_," Robin snorted. "So I don't see how practicing on _you_ will do any good."

"Oh, there are similarities… but, of course, it takes skill and, when starting out, a bit of bravery as well. I don't expect you to accept a challenge like that, My Lord. Let's focus on your pleasure."

The prince didn't take the bait at once, but Slade could see by the way he was biting his lip, that he was thinking about it. The man, however, didn't wait for him to make up his mind, he simply went back to sucking and nibbling on one little pink nub while playing with the other one with his fingers. Surprisingly, the aristocrat seemed to like it when he got a little bit rougher with them, but the man didn't dare to really explore that yet. He would though, he promised himself. One day soon.

Robin felt slightly confused. On one hand he supposed the man was right; that the erection was flattering, but somehow it also felt... threatening. He had also noticed that it was longer and thicker than his own and that was something he didn't quite like as well. His own had grown a lot though, especially in recent years, so maybe, when he was the slave's age…? He wanted to ask about that but felt a bit too embarrassed to now. Besides, what the man was doing felt much too good for him to interrupt again. His breath hitched when the man moved further down, kissing his stomach and even his navel, which made something of a giggle escape from the prince's lips, as it tickled. He wanted something more, however.

"Go lower," he urged the man and tried to push him down.

"Remember, Master, that I'm the teacher here. I'll take all the time I want," the slave smirked and then sat up on his knees, grabbing one of Robin's ankles and lifted it up until he could kiss the foot.

The aristocrat wanted to object, but he was also very curious about what the man would do. The kisses continued until they reached his toes, and, with a little smirk, the man sucked one of them into his mouth. Robin's back arched and his hands fisted in the sheets. What kind of magic was this?! How could the man make his_ toes_ feel that good? His head fell back against the pillow as the man went on. Slade's hands caressed his leg as well, sliding up and down on the inside of his thigh causing Robin to writhe. When the man began kissing his way down the leg the young prince barely had any patience left at all, but a bite to the backside of his knee showed him there were more spots on his body the man could play with.

Slade continued to bite and suck his way down the inner thigh. The prince would wear his marks tomorrow, a thought that made the man smile. A collar might be a more powerful symbol of ownership, but this worked as well. When he reached the groin, however, he skipped over it to attack the other thigh.

"Oh for the love of…!" Robin growled, but a harder bite turned his objection into a mewl. Again, the prince seemed to like things just a little bit… rough. Slade enjoyed keeping the young man on his toes, though, not letting him have his way for once, so he took his time, eventually reaching the second foot as well. After kissing and sucking on the toes there, however, a sound grabbed his attention and he looked down on the boy. Like in the clearing it was a beautiful sight. The prince's face was flushed, his chest heaved, his fingers were digging into the mattress and his cock was twitching and weeping profoundly all over his stomach. His eyes, however, weren't closed, they were staring at him, pleadingly, and they even seemed a bit wet.

"… please…"

Slade couldn't believe his own ears. He had no idea the prince knew what begging was, and did it so well to boot.

"Please… please… I need… I need you," the young noble moaned.

Slade might be a hard man, no pun intended, but he was seldom downright cruel. Unless he needed to be, of course. This time he only dragged it out a _little_ bit, by letting his mouth hover over the tip of the weeping cock and blowing on it, making the young man let out a muffled sob of need.

Robin was in agony. He was also in bliss. He knew that he should be able to just order the man to do what he wanted, but, somehow, he couldn't. Everything the man did told Robin that he wasn't in charge here, though he wasn't exactly sure how that had happened. Nor did he care, especially when those lips_ finally_ closed around his length, and he tried to thrust up into that heat. Unfortunately, one of the man's hands pushing down on his hip stopped him from moving very much at all.

Slade wasn't very comfortable at the moment as he was sitting on his knees between the prince's legs and was bent over, but he needed both of his hands. One to keep the young man in place, because he drew the line at getting his throat fucked. Thankfully the noble hadn't figured out that that was possible yet, and, if Slade had any say in it, Robin was the one who was going to learn how to do that first. He used his second hand to squeeze the base of the other's cock, trying to stop him from coming quite yet. He wanted to take things further this time, however, and left the length to gently tug a bit on the young man's balls. When he had seen the prince naked the first time he had been slightly surprised that he had been so smooth. There was hair, yes, this was not a boy after all, but his arms, legs and chest were almost hairless and he hadn't seen him shave yet, although he had noticed some sparse stubble on his cheeks when they kissed. Slade had to shave every day, and that was standard among his people. The men here didn't seem exactly hairless either, which caused him to believe that maybe Robin's family had not came from Gotham, but maybe further south or south east where he knew people to be less hairy. Still, there were always exceptions, and Robin might very well have his roots here in this very city.

Focusing on his task again, Slade's hand left the balls and, for the first time, went further down, massaging the perineum, knowing he could stimulate the pleasure gland inside to some extent by doing so. The prince arched and Slade drew back his mouth so to not over-stimulate him, letting a string of saliva run down to make the area he was fingering slick. The prince didn't seem to notice the mouth disappearing. His eyes were now closed and he was withering again, pushing against Slade's fingers, like he was begging the man to push them inside him. Slade knew he wasn't; he was pretty sure the prince had no idea what his fingers would do next, but it was worth the risk. Slowly he let a fingertip slide down a little further, until it was resting against the velvety wrinkled opening. He circled it, teasing it, and then pushed gently against it. The young man enjoyed it all. Until Slade pushed his fingertip inside.

The heel that suddenly kicked him in the shoulder was so unexpected that the man almost tumbled backwards.

"What are you doing?!" Robin's eyes were wild and looked… hurt? Betrayed? Slade wasn't sure, he just knew he had a lot of damage to repair, and that quickly, before the prince kicked him out. The young man had started to crawl up against the headboard, away from him.

"Master? I don't understand? Did I hurt you?" Slade said as soothingly as he could, acting perfectly innocent.

"You… you _entered_ me!"

"Yes? With my finger?" Slade continued. "Mouth and hands? That was all that was explained to me."

"_NOTHING_ is allowed to enter me down there!" the prince exclaimed, but he wasn't outright yelling, which was a good sign.

"Master! I…" Slade's crestfallen act took on new dimensions and his shoulders slumped. "Will you forgive me? I did not know! I thought I was allowed to use my fingers in every way, they never said…" Slade claimed. That was actually the truth, after all, but he had gotten the impression that, as it was forbidden for women to be entered in any way, it probably was for men as well.

"Well, maybe they couldn't fathom anyone _doing_ that," Robin snorted.

"Fingering is very popular both amongst men and women," Slade lectured, "but I will of course respect your rules. I thought I wasn't allowed to enter you with my cock, that's all."

"Cock?" the prince repeated, having relaxed a bit again. Slade indicated this particular body part, and the prince burst out laughing. "Your manhood? Of course not! That would be impossible!"

"Please, Master, let me finish pleasing you?" Slade asked, and, with the briefest of nods from the young man he resumed licking and sucking on his length. His hand did return to the perineum, however; he refused to back off completely. The boy had _enjoyed_ the finger in his ass, Slade knew that, and he wouldn't rest until that, and his cock as well, was buried inside it. It wouldn't happen today, though, that much was clear.

Robin had never felt so torn in his life. When the finger had pushed inside him he had been on the verge of exploding, but he had _had _to push the man away. It was _wrong_. He wasn't married, after all, he had to stay untouched, meaning he couldn't enter anyone and he couldn't be entered. At least he_ thought_ that was true. The rule was 'hands and mouth only', after all, it was just that he hadn't imagined hands doing _more_ than caressing. On the other hand, Slade has suggested that men put their manhood's up other men's… Was that what was meant with 'nothing entering him'? No one had been specific about it, but the prince couldn't_ imagine_… He had learned a lot tonight, and, if he could gather the courage, he would ask Alfred about this 'fingering' tomorrow. Or soon. When the time was right. Right now it was time for something else, however, something that washed all other thoughts from his mind in one giant wave. He cried out as he, finally, was allowed to come.

He needed some time to recover after that, but movement caught his attention and he looked to his side where the slave was laying, stroking himself slowly. The man's body fascinated the prince. Being this close to another naked human, and a male on top of that, was extremely interesting. A woman's body, from the descriptions Slade had given him, seemed confusing to him, but Slade had all the same parts he himself had, and he knew how it felt when they were touched. He knew what the man must be feeling at this moment as well, and what he wanted it to lead to. The prince wasn't sure that it was proper and considered ordering his slave to finish up in the bathroom, but he was also feeling generous after his release. If there were any protocols regarding this, certainly Alfred would have told him? Deciding that he would have, he reached out and slid a hand over Slade's chest, slowly going lower. As he reached the man's lower stomach, Slade stopped stroking himself and pulled away slightly, leaving room for Robin's hand to close around the warm and now rather slippery shaft. Robin's mouth opened slightly in astonishment. It felt incredible just to hold the thing, but that, of course, wasn't enough. He gently began moving his hand up and down.

"Very good, Master… but may I show you something?" the slave asked. Robin nodded and the man's hand closed over his, setting the pace and the firmness until the prince caught on how he wanted to be touched.

Slade's eye was half closed. This wasn't bad. He might have hoped for a bit more, but he knew better than to push the prince any more tonight. Still, the boy learned quickly and should be rewarded for it. He could have held out longer, but he urged himself on until he tensed up and came all over the young man's hand and his own stomach.

"Oh!" the noble let go quickly. "You didn't warn me!"

"You were just too good, Master, I had no idea I could come that quickly," Slade lied with an easy smile.

"I… see…" the prince answered and then went to the dresser where a pitcher of water stood next to a washbowl.

Slade enjoyed the sight of the young man's naked slender body in the light of the fire, the shadows playing over his skin. He wondered if he might make the prince interested in a second round.

Robin felt quite pleased with himself as he washed the man's emission off his hands and dried them carefully. Today had been a long, but mostly good, day. He had bought a new sword, ridden a beautiful horse, and even though his adoptive father had been as difficult as usual, his Slave's offer of help gave him hope. Furthermore he had begun to learn how to fight. For real and not for show, and the night had ended… quite pleasantly. That's why his last order to the man for the evening wasn't as harsh as it probably could have been. He picked up his nightshirt where it was waiting for him on the other side of the dresser and turned around to give the man a look.

"Slade?"

"Yes, Master?" the man answered.

"Get off my bed."

* * *

_To Be Continued…._

A/N: the longest chapter yet and only two scenes… hope it wasn't boring, but I really wanted to take my time with the smut this time around, and, for effing ONCE the smut IS important to the plot… *lol*

I'll see you next week, and, in the mean time, please review!


	6. A Horse May Stumble

A/N: thank you to **Aikino **for being my beta this time!

And this chapter contain yet another reader's name which I've borrowed. Again, you know who you are, or I'll give our real name away… ;) People might curse you a bit when this chapter is over, we'll see… ;)

Oh, and if you don't agree with the grammar of the title; that's how it was written on most of the sites I found it on…

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 6: A Horse May Stumble Though He Have Four Legs**

Robin slept really well that night and was in an excellent mood when he woke up as well. Alfred, as usual, helped him get ready, but as he was about to dress him, the old valet froze.

"Oh my!"

"What is it, Alfred?" the prince asked, looking at the man who seemed shocked.

"I'll send for the physician immediately!"

"Wait, what?" Robin gasped. "What are you talking about? What is wrong?"

"Your rash! Might be boils even! Go back to bed immediately, and-"

But the prince had finally looked down and realized what the man had seen and knew where the red marks all over his body came from.

"Alfred, it's not… it's not a rash… Um… it's… um…" he began. He looked up to see if he could get any support from his slave, but he had relieved Slade of his duties for an hour, and the man was just on his way out after getting dressed in his now cleaned outfit which Alfred had brought with him. Robin thought he could see the man's shoulders shaking suspiciously as he left, but didn't dare to call him back. Instead he had to explain to his old valet that the marks were, in fact, not contagious. There were quite a bit of embarrassment on both sides after that.

As ordered, Slade returned as Robin finished his breakfast and the prince nodded his approval to the man before turning to his valet.

"Alfred, what's on the schedule today?"

"Firstly, I suggest a shave, Sir. After that, quite a lot of official business, I'm afraid."

_Lovely,_ Robin thought to himself. That meant he would be in his throne room all day, being bored. But there was nothing for it, it had to be done. "Very well. Schedule dinner for seven then, I'd rather work late and get as much as possible out of the way. I really wish I could get away a bit, though…" he added, mostly to himself. "Slade, prepare to stand around and be bored all day…"

"Master? If I may have a word? In private?" Slade said, seeing an opportunity in all this that did not include him being shown off as a pet all day.

"Yes?" Robin asked as they entered the bedroom, a little bit annoyed because of how he had to spend the day.

"If you don't need me, My Lord, I might begin my… investigations?"

The prince looked thoughtful for a moment, but then nodded. "Very well. You can have the day off, but return here before dinner. And, of course, should I send for you…"

"I'll be at your side in a heartbeat, Master. I won't leave the castle grounds," Slade promised, because he certainly didn't intend to.

Slade knew the kitchen was very busy right now as he'd just came from there, so he headed outside first, taking to the courtyard and cobbled walkways to get a better look at the gates into the castle. The main one was always well guarded, although open during the day. Only a few people were stopped and checked, and the guards seemed to know many faces, nodding or greeting people. That wasn't surprising, Slade assumed as he stood and watched for a while, as many of the craftsmen who serviced the castle lived in the city.

He studied the proceedings for about half an hour, looking to the rest of the world like he was just slouching against the wall, enjoying the sunshine. In fact he rather was. Spring would barely be on its way in the mountains now, and here, although not quite summer yet, it had started to get warm.

He moved on after a while. The main gates would never be his first choice anyway. There were more, though. The kitchen gates where all the produce came in, and the back gate close to the stables, leading out to the riding area and country side. Both were guarded as well, but Slade had seen something by the stables last time, which he wanted to take a closer look at.

He ran into one of the senior stablehands who almost jumped to attention.

"The Prince wants to ride again, does he?" the short but slightly husky man asked. His voice, Slade noted was respectful, even though his words were a bit on the lower class side.

"No, no, Sir, he gave me the day off. Busy with business all day, so I doubt he'll ride at all today," Slade smiled easily.

"Good to know, good to know… then I'll have a few of the boys exercise the ones inside," the man nodded to himself. "KURT!" he yelled so his voice echoed in the courtyard.

"Yes, boss?" a boy, not much younger than the prince, poked his head out of the stable door.

"The prince won't ride today, make sure his horses get a run, right?"

"Yes, Sir!" the boy nodded and disappeared inside again.

"Maybe you'd want to take one out?" the man asked Slade, who shook his head.

"I'd love to help, Sir, but I don't have permission and I promised to stay on the grounds," he answered.

"No need to 'sir' me, Hamps is the name. Senior Groomer, under the Stable Master of course," he said and stuck out a calloused and slightly dirty hand. Slade shook it heartily.

"My name's Slade, I think you've heard about me? With my status, though…?"

"Pft. Saw you riding the other day. Handled that horse perfectly, and took good care of her too. That's what matters to me, boy."

Slade was amused at being called 'boy'; he was older than the groomer, after all, but he understood it as a title. Lower ranking hands at the stable were called 'boys' after all, no matter if they were eight or twenty.

"Thank you, Hamps. I was just looking around, I haven't had much chance to do that. Where does that door lead, for example?" he asked and pointed to a quite wide wooden door, set in the outer wall. It was a bit hidden behind the stables, which made it perfect for the man's slowly forming plans.

"Oh, just out to the dung heaps," the man shrugged.

"Ah, I see, it's quite wide, though?"

"Yeah, gotta come through with our wheelbarrows and carts, don't we?" the man chuckled. "But it's no use sneaking out into town using it, it's locked from the inside, see?" he said and pointed to the bar running across it.

"Wouldn't want to walk through piles of dung just to get down to a tavern," Slade chuckled.

"Ah, but you don't have to, that's why I'm warning you," the groomer nodded wisely. "Take a look, why don't you?"

"Very well," Slade snorted, although he had wanted to do just that. Behind the door was a road, leading right up to it, and, to the side, the expected dung heaps. Although not that much of it, considering the stables were quite big. "Are your horses constipated?" he asked with a grin.

"No, no, the people who farm the Crown's lands come here and picks it up, don't they?" the man said. "Very convenient, ain't it?"

Slade nodded smugly. Very convenient indeed. The door might be locked, but, after all, only from the inside, and there wasn't any guards around here, although they probably patrolled.

"Well, locked or not, the guards will catch anyone who'd want to sneak out for a pint, won't they?" he asked to see if the man would tell him anything.

"Nah, they don't come around this side much, after all, it's our responsibility to keep the gate locked," the groomer shrugged. "But if you want to have some fun, just talk to the guys. For a coin or two, they'll let you in the back gate after closing and won't say nothing about it," he added with a grin.

"Good to know," Slade grinned back.

He continued his tour of the castle, and was only turned away from one corridor, which apparently led to the King's chambers. He stopped there to talk to the guards for a little while, pretending he was lost. He avoided the throne rooms, as he wouldn't be allowed in there either, not the main one, at least, and he wanted to stay away from his master in case the prince got other ideas and decided Slade should stick around.

Heading down to the servant's quarters again, he struck up a conversation with a pretty kitchen maid.

"So you are the reason for all the wonderful food, are you?" he began, surprising her in a pantry as large as a bedroom.

"Oh! You scared me!" she exclaimed, but her eyes twinkled in a certain way, telling the man that she didn't much mind. "And I only help, you know. We have cooks here."

"Ah, but they would be nothing without you, wouldn't they?" Slade smirked. "What's your name?"

"C-Cassidy, S-sir… I mean…Umm…"

"Call me Slade. I'm but a lowly slave after all," the man chuckled easily. "You outrank me… unless you're a slave too?"

"No, no, I'm not, but I'm… I'm a woman, Sir," she added, sounding confused.

"I see, but where I come from, ranks are not only for one gender. So I'm at your service, My Lady," he grinned, bowing slightly. "So, Cassidy… been working here long?"

"All my life, Si- Slade. All my family has," she answered after bursting out giggling.

"Lucky me. I've been trying to find my way through this maze… you must know all the secrets of this place, isn't that so… and of its people…?"

"Well… a girl hears things…" the young woman admitted.

"Anything interesting?" Slade purred.

"Well… Lord Galante and Lord Maroni sleep in the same bed!" she whispered.

"You don't say?" Slade couldn't quite feign shock at this, but he tried.

"Heard it from Lord Galante's chambermaid herself!" the kitchen maid snickered.

"Well, thank you, I was _hoping_ to hear the deepest, darkest secret of Gotham," Slade grinned. "Did you hear that the prince had lunch outside down by the river yesterday, with traders from the north?" he asked.

"He did?!"

"Yes, I was there, after all… the nobles were sitting on dirty logs. Couldn't let the prince do that, of course, so I let him sit in my lap…" the man lied.

"And he did? He sat in your _lap_?" the maid's eyes were very large now and Slade could see how she ached to tell someone.

"Yes, of course. Don't tell anyone, though… especially as they got a bit drunk."

"With the_ northerners_?! Oh, sorry, I mean… you are one too, but…"

"No offence, I'm not part of a trade caravan, after all…" the man smirked. "But yes, they fell off the horses several times on the way back. Well… I can't say the prince did, of course. He's my master, after all, I shan't speak ill of him."

"No, of course not," the woman grinned conspiratorially.

"Speaking of the prince, I've understood that he's… adopted?" Slade said next, in a lower voice.

"Yes, as a mere babe," the woman nodded.

"Interesting. Who are his real parents then?" the man asked.

"Oh, no one knows! Well… there are rumors of a lover of the king…" the woman said. "But mom said that he just returned one day with the baby…"

"Returned?" Slade's interest peaked. "From where?"

"Oh, I don't know. The king travelled more when he was younger… might just be hunting, I can't remember…"

"I wouldn't mind finding out, though, if you could ask around…" Slade said.

"I… don't know… we don't speak much about that…" the woman said, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh, I apologize. I didn't know it was quite as sensitive. The young prince should be honored to have you to keep his secrets. I, of course, will too, however, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable, My Lady. Please forgive me?"

"Oh, it's… it's no problem," Cassidy blushed. "I'll ask my mom tonight what she can remember! You are his slave, after all!"

"I'd be forever in your debt," the man bowed again. "I am afraid I have to go now, but I'll try to come down and see you again tomorrow or the next day… maybe during breakfast tomorrow? If I can get away?"

"Um, yes… I'd… I'd like to see you again too," Cassidy smiled.

Slade took her hand and, as she giggled, he kissed it and bid farewell. As he was leaving the kitchen area behind he couldn't help but thinking that he'd like to hike her skirts up one of these days. Sooner rather than later if he couldn't get anywhere with his little prince, after all, the lower class didn't seem to be quite as prudish.

* * *

Robin was as bored as he feared he would be. He had had a very quick lunch, just a piece of chicken between two slices of bread, but that was the only break he had had all day. Now his buttocks and lower back hurt from sitting on his throne and his mood was darkened yet some more by his next appointment, Duke Blackgate.

"Duke," the prince nodded as the man entered. "What can I do for you?"

"I apologize for the late appointment, My Lord," the man smiled, nothing apologetic about his behavior at all. "I've heard some news recently, however, which I found troublesome."

"And what news would that be?" Robin asked, curious despite himself.

"Is it true that you fired Master Warner?" the man asked, somewhat accusingly.

"Correct," the prince said coldly, his voice warning the man from opposing his decision, but the warning went unheeded.

"You replaced him with your slave? And where is that slave now?"

"Careful, Duke, you almost sound like you are_ interrogating_ me, your _prince,"_ Robin growled. "The whereabouts of my slave is none of your business, but, to put your worries at ease, I gave him the day off."

"My Lord, I apologize. I'm merely _worried _about you. Letting a slave teach you something as important as fencing? Letting him run free in the castle after only a few days? I fear he has gained too much influence over you! Soon he will be after our wives and daughters! Those bed slaves are creatures of _lust_, they need to be _controlled_!"

Robin glanced over at Alfred who met his eyes but then looked down on his papers, like he wanted to avoid the prince's gaze. Due to his advanced age, the valet was allowed to sit behind a small writing desk when his feet got tired, and that's where he was now, shuffling a few papers around. Did Alfred agree with the Duke? It had only been a few days, and maybe he had taken to the slave a bit too quickly and thus spoiling him, like one would a puppy. On the other hand, Robin had a reason behind sending the man away for the day… but it might look bad in the public's eyes. Besides, he didn't quite like the thing about 'wives and daughters'.

"He's my slave, I don't see why you should fear for the virtue of any woman in this castle?" Robin eventually said.

"Yes, well… My Lord, with all due respect, he's not bound to you by any laws of fidelity. These men, and women, take pleasure where they can find it." The man sounded like he thought Robin was being silly for thinking Slade would only 'do things' with him. The young man frowned, but the Duke wasn't finished. "Besides, because of our high morals, slaves are seldom… satisfied… in our rooms."

Robin instantly knew what the man meant, but snorted.

"So you are saying that you fear our women's morals are as low as his?"

"No, of course not, but there are others than nobility in the castle. Besides, a man like that, if he has enough charm, can trick himself into _any_ bed."

"I assure you I have him under control," the prince told him firmly.

"I'm glad to hear that. If you don't, Your Highness, words would reach the King, I'm afraid."

Meaning 'I'll tell on you', the prince knew.

"If there was nothing else?"

"Yes, in fact… my son was very sad to miss the outing the other day…"

"You mean yesterday's inspection?"

"Yes. He thinks highly of you, My Lord, and would like to be by your side."

Robin loathed Duke Blackgate's son. Lord Bryant Blackgate was on his way to becoming at _least_ as obnoxious and malicious as his dear old dad, and sometimes almost scared the prince. He was a bully, clearly shared his father's view regarding Robin's suitability as future king, and he was a year or two older than the prince, something he had never let him forget when they were younger. Unfortunately, the Blackgates were one of the most influential families in the kingdom, and without their support, the house of Wayne would be significantly weakened.

"How about he spends time with me tomorrow?" Robin said, feeling bile rise at the back of his throat. He got a good idea, however, and added with a little smirk: "he can join me for sword practice after breakfast."

"I'm not sure it's suitable for my son to be trained by a slave," the Duke said dismissingly.

"If it's suitable for his _prince_, it's suitable for _him_," Robin snorted. "Alfred will schedule the session with you later. If there was nothing else, you are dismissed. I've had a long day."

"I'm afraid I _do_ have to go," the man bowed slightly, like he was dismissing the prince and not the other way around. "After breakfast tomorrow will be fine, my son will be there."

"Very good," the prince nodded, hoping said son would come down with some horrible stomach decease before then. Preferably a deadly one.

When the door closed after the man, the prince sighed.

"Was he the last one, Alfred? Please tell me he was?"

"He was, My Lord. Do you wish to retire?"

"Oh, yes," the young man said and stood up to stretch. "It's almost time for dinner, isn't it? I'm starving."

"Yes, Your Highness, I'll make sure they send it up immediately."

"If you see Slade, send him back to me as well," Robin told him as he left the room.

Slade, however, was already waiting for his master in his rooms. The last thing he had discovered that day was the royal library, but it had been protected by guards who wouldn't let a simple slave pass. That was annoying, because the man wouldn't mind going through it. There was bound to be records of the castle's history and maybe even drawings of its layout in there, after all.

The prince had a slightly pinched expression on his face as he came into his rooms, but when it lightened slightly as he laid eyes on his slave, Slade got a strange feeling of… pride?

_Oh, no… am I on the verge of wagging my tail too?_ The northern king asked himself dryly, but smiled and bowed for his master.

"Ah, Slade, good to find you already back. I did_ not_ have a good day…" the prince sighed and threw himself down on one of the sitting-room's chaise longues in a rather un-princely manner. Slade noticed that he saw more and more of the young man's private side, no pun intended, and he quite enjoyed it. It beat spending time with a dressed up doll.

"Can I do something for you to make you relax?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh… No, dinner will be here any moment," Robin grinned, knowing perfectly well what would relax him. "Come, sit." the prince indicated the floor next to the low sofa, and Slade kneeled dutifully only to have the young man's fingers running through his hair and around the back of his neck. "You wouldn't believe the people I had to deal with today…"

And so the prince began telling his slave of his day. Slade knew this kind of need very well; to just be allowed to whine for a while. Wintergreen had had to listen to many of his own tirades through the years, about everything from wars, to his wife, to the time his sons had a pet chicken and tried to hide it up a chimney. Sometimes you just needed to talk. Although he had never petted Wintergreen's hair while doing so. Eventually the prince reached his last visitor and, after telling the man about tomorrow's sword-practice they shared a grin.

"I wouldn't be very much opposed if you make him fall on his ass a few times," Robin told the man. "But still… it might be better if you were careful… His father is powerful and has the King's ear. My father has already threatened to take you away from me…" the prince's hand in his heir tightened momentarily. "I don't want that to happen."

"Me neither, Master," Slade said honestly. "You are a quick learner, however, after what I've already shown you, you should be able to make the young lord land quite hard on his posterior by yourself."

The prince chuckled when he heard this. "How about your day, Slade? I don't want to pressure you, you have to be careful, after all, but did you find anything out?"

"Yes, I-"

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, however, and the kitchen staff arrived with the prince's dinner.

"Have you eaten? Because I ordered for you too," Robin said.

"I have not, Master, thank you," Slade nodded, and, after receiving his plate, went to eat in the bedroom as usual.

After dinner Alfred was busy preparing things for the night in the bedchamber, and Slade quietly told Robin what little he had found out.

"So I might not be from here?" the prince asked.

"She didn't know what kind of journey it might be, but I hope to find out tomorrow."

"She?"

"A kitchen maid," Slade shrugged.

"Oh." The prince's eye hardened a little for some reason. "Well, I guess you have to ask around. I want you to remember that you belong to me, though. Don't shame me."

"Of course not, Master," Slade raised an eyebrow at the prince's expression, wondering what he meant by that, but he had another thing he wanted to ask about. "One of my former Masters had some records of his travels in the library, there were also memoirs by other nobles there," he said. "I don't think the answer is written down, but there might be clues to where His Majesty often traveled to at that time which might be useful. Also who he spent time with, maybe people no longer at court. If a king does something, someone always tends to write it down…"

"Yes, I'm aware of that, I once found a record of the date I was able to sit on the potty by myself…" Robin muttered. "It was a letter to the King from my old nurse maid. Letters are usually kept, but it's very hard to find anything in them, trust me, I tried when I was younger."

"Even so, My Lord, I could have a look, if I could be allowed to enter the library."

"Yes, of course. Alfred!" Robin called.

"Yes, Your Highness?" the valet said, opening the bedroom door.

"Would you collect a letter of access to the Royal Library I can sign for Slade?"

"Yes, of course, My Lord, but, may I ask, what for?"

"As I've already told you he helps me with my studies. It would be convenient if I can send him to get books and scrolls for me when I need them." The prince's lie was so smooth it impressed Slade, and he almost wanted to pat him on the shoulder.

"Yes, My Lord," the valet said and went to fetch the permit. He was soon back, apparently these permits were pre-written as they were given out regularly, and all the valet had to do was to fill in Slade's name and then the prince signed it, blowing on the ink before handing it over to Slade, who bowed.

The night was spent quietly with the prince reading a book about horse breeds, purely for his own entertainment, and Slade, after getting his master's permission, reading a book about the history of Gotham, while sitting on the floor next to the young man as before, with fingers idly playing in his hair again. When the clock struck nine the prince yawned and told his slave to call for Alfred. After the valet had helped him get ready for bed, Slade read to the prince from one of the boring books on his study list.

"The chapter ends here, Master, should I continue?" Slade asked. When he didn't get an answer he rose from his cot, which he had been permitted to sit down on while reading, and found the prince sleeping soundly. He put the book aside and went around the room extinguishing the lights. He didn't know if the prince would be annoyed if he woke him up, a prince surely didn't just fall asleep like a child listening to a bedtime story after all. On the other hand, not waking him and having him listen to the whole chapter again tomorrow might also be frowned upon. In the end Slade did what _he_ wanted to do; go to bed.

The prince didn't make any comment about falling asleep in the middle of the chapter the next morning, so perhaps he had forgotten or, maybe, he just refused to admit it out of embarrassment. He sent Slade down to the kitchen to eat breakfast, telling him to go to the training hall afterwards and wait for him there. He had dryly remarked that there might be some waiting, as young Lord Blackgate abhorred rising before nearly noon. He wouldn't dare to be too late, however, but, as Robin hadn't set a time, just 'after breakfast' he was sure to drag it out as long as he could. Which was fine by the prince.

When he reached the servant's area, which was close to the kitchen, Slade looked around for Cassidy, but didn't see her. He ate a hearty breakfast, glad the castle didn't skimp on the food for their servants, having both porridge, boiled eggs, bread and cheese. There was milk too, from cows, not goats or sheep, not that the man minded that. Even horse milk was sometimes had in the mountains, although it was considered a delicacy. After eating he checked the kitchen quickly, but no Cassidy. He had to give up then and headed out, and now he got lucky. He spotted the young woman lugging two large buckets of water from the courtyard well, heading towards the kitchen door.

"Let me help you with those," Slade smiled and easily took over the burden.

"Slade! I looked for you this morning…"

"Ah, but you have to remember that nobles have a different definition of mornings than working people…" Slade grinned. "It's still morning for His Highness… and therefore me, I'm afraid."

"Oh, of course. I start at five, myself," the young woman smiled as she walked beside him. "Thank you, I'll take the buckets in."

"You don't have any news for me?"

"I do, but they are waiting for the water. I have to go another round as well. Can you wait until I come out?"

"Yes," Slade agreed as he probably would have to wait for his master for at least another half hour. "And how about I take a couple of empty buckets and fill them up while you empty these?"

"Oh, would you? Thank you!" Cassidy beamed.

Slade grinned back. That girl wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

He grabbed four buckets from the kitchen and had soon filled them up. As he carried two in each hand he couldn't fill them completely to the brim, but it would still save the maid a lot of time, he figured. She came out again just as he reached the door.

"I'm sorry, I was caught up- oh! Aren't you an angel!"

"Guilty," the man grinned. "So… what have you found out?"

"Mom says the King had been on a hunting trip, staying at a lodge not that far from here… but…"

"But?"

"Well, the King _did_ go on the trip, that much I know because my aunt was one of the servants who went with him… but then there was a messenger early one morning, and the king and his closest men rode off, with some guards, and they didn't return. The next day another messenger came telling the staff that the King had grown bored of hunting and returned home. Mom saw him ride in, though, and he came through the back gate, from the opposite direction of his hunting grounds… But what happened or what the message was about… well, some of us thinks it was from a mistress, of course, but…"

"Thank you, Cassidy," Slade smiled and put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I've always said that if you want to surround yourself with intelligent people, there is no use looking in a throne room…" he grinned. The woman smiled back, and suddenly they were very close. Her eyes rested briefly on his mouth as she wet her lips, and what better invitation was there? Slade leaned down a little and then a terrible pain exploded against the back of his head.

"What do you think you're doing, slave? Kneel!" The prince sounded like he was out for blood, and judging by the warm trickle finding its way down Slade's neck at that moment, he had gotten some. "You! Maid! Get out of here!" the prince ordered and, with a terrified sob, Cassidy fled.

Robin had been sitting in his study intent on spending the time before Bryant Blackgate decided to make an appearance reading, but it wasn't too long before there was a knock on the door, and, without waiting for an answer, it opened. Only servants didn't have to wait for an answer unless being told differently, but the young lord obviously thought he belonged in these rooms by the way he strolled in.

"Ah, Robin…" he nodded. The prince's inner circle didn't have to use his titles, of course, but Bryant _never_ did. "I've heard we'll have some entertainment today… a bed slave as a sword instructor? I could barely stop laughing when father told me… it's surely a joke, is it not?"

"Yes, I'm sure you'll be laughing afterwards," Robin smirked and rose. "Shall we go?"

"We might as well… but where _is _your big toy?"

"I've sent him ahead."

"So father was right, you _do _let him run around freely!" the young lord all but gasped. Robin knew it was an act, and it was a bad one at that.

"I have him under control."

"I bet he's bedding a stable boy right now," the other grinned lewdly.

"He's not. Come," the prince growled.

"Well, let's hope so, because, you know, I would have to tell father. He wouldn't like having someone like that loose in the castle!"

_Then maybe you can go back to your own bloody manor… _Robin thought dryly to himself. The Blackgates had announced that they intended to stay at _least_ until the prince's birthday, however, so there was little chance of avoiding them for another two months. Damn, Robin missed winter when the roads were so bad that most families stayed in their own damn parts of the country. He was so angry that he didn't spot what was happening before Bryant, tittering, pointed it out to him. Slade. With a woman. About to-

By the yank on the iron ring around his neck, Slade could tell that he had been put on a leash again.

"See? He's a lecherous dog! His Majesty will not be happy to hear about this," the man heard an unfamiliar voice say. Or had he heard it before? One of the prince's so called 'friends', perhaps?

"I don't need the King to train my own slaves!" said prince snarled, and Slade had never heard him sound so furious.

"Oh, and what are you going to do? Smack his nose? Tell him 'no'? No one will be impressed with a punishment like that!" the snarky voice said. It was also brimming with glee, making Slade instantly hate the little snot.

"No, I won't 'smack his nose'," the man heard his master growl. "Guards! Fetch the executioner!"

_To Be Continued…._

* * *

A/N: pft, I know and you know that Slade won't actually DIE, because… well… that would make this the second-last chapter, probably, right? And it's not. So no surprise there. What WILL happen, though… you'll see next week.

And hey, no complaining! ;) If I COULD I would post two chapters a week, but I'm only two chapters ahead, so that's impossible. None of the stories I follow updates this often, though, so you're still lucky! Remember that now when I left you with this cliffy… ;) And review, please!


	7. A Colt You May Break

A/N: thank you to **Higashisaru **who was my beta this time!

I won't keep you. I know you've been waiting a week… ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 7: A Colt You May Break, But an Old Horse You Never Can **

_From the last chapter:_

_"Oh, and what are you going to do? Smack his nose? Tell him 'no'? No one will be impressed with a punishment like that!" the snarky voice said. It was also brimming with glee, making Slade instantly hate the little snot._

_"No, I won't 'smack his nose'," the man heard his master growl. "Guards! Fetch the executioner!"_

Slade grew cold when he heard that word. He should escape, he decided, even though it would mean he would have to throw his plans away and just gather his men and attack. It would most likely mean carnage on both sides, and he had hoped for a cleaner takeover.

"So you're getting rid of him, Robin? Good choice. Can't have filth like that around," Lord Blackgate chuckled.

"I'm not getting _rid_ of him, I'm going to properly _punish_ him," Robin snorted, still holding the man's leash very tightly. "Punishments are the executioner's job after all."

That calmed Slade down a little. Maybe it was best to endure whatever was coming and stay put. He ground his teeth. This would _not_ be fun.

"I say put him down, and that whore he was with as well-" the noble said loudly but he didn't get a chance to continue before the prince stopped him.

"I will certainly not punish a young woman when she clearly was seduced! I place the blame solely on my slave, but I'm affronted that you think_ you_ have any right to voice an opinion. Lord Blackgate, you are excused," Robin growled.

"But I-"

"You are trying your Prince's patience. Leave now, or join my slave's fate! Guards, escort him away!"

"I can walk by myself, thank you, _Robin_." the noble snarled. "And I will. Straight to my father."

The prince only snorted. Slade had eye lowered to the ground but heard angry steps crossing the courtyard and then they were left alone, apart from the remaining guards who kept a respectful distance. The man didn't doubt that they would be ready to fire their crossbows into his back if he as much as made an attempt to rise. Still, he knew who was the closest and had his eye on the man's sword, wondering if he would be able to reach it in time if he had to.

"Master-?"

"Quiet!"

"But… what did I do?" Slade had a very good idea what had pissed off the young monarch, but he was going to play dumb. At least if it would lessen his punishment. Desperate times…

The prince sighed and squatted down to his slave's level, using his finger to raise the man's chin enough to look into that single eye.

"You are mine. I told you to remember who you belong to, and I find you here about to… to _KISS_ that maid! Sullying yourself with _OTHERS_ behind my back!"

"I didn't know-"

"But you _should_ have! You belong to _me_! I don't care what filthy deeds your former owners allowed, but you belong to a _prince_ now! I obviously can't trust you off the leash and you are going to learn what happens when you make me look like a fool!"

"Your Highness?"

Robin rose as he heard the voice of the executioner. When he had been a little boy he had been very afraid of him, who wouldn't be, but as he had grown up he had learned that this was just a normal man with one of the hardest tasks in the kingdom.

"Ah, Headsman," the prince greeted him by his less official title. "My slave has been acting very inappropriately towards me and needs to be punished. What do you suggest?"

"Crimes against the crown are punishable by death, My Lord," the man said without so much as blinking.

"It was not _that _serious," Robin shook his head. "What is the crime for adultery?"

"Fifteen lashes, Sir, for a first offender."

"Then fifteen lashes it is. At once, please."

"Very good, My Lord. We'll bring him to the pole and I'll send my boy for the whip."

"Thank you. Guards, take the slave to the pole," Robin said, leaving his pet in the other men's hands.

"It is traditional to strip the convict before the punishment," he was told.

"Let him keep his breeches," the prince decided. "He's still my slave, after all. Headsman, a word?"

As the guards led Slade away Robin exchanged a few quiet words with the executioner.

"Tell me… whipping… can it cause permanent injuries?"

"Some die, My Lord. From the shock of the pain alone, or from the whip breaking their neck or spine, or from the lacerations getting infected."

"I want him punished," Robin said, "But not severely injured. Is there some way you could…?"

"Oh, yes, in some cases I'm asked to hold back. As long as it's fifteen strikes, the punishment is sound. It will still hurt him, however. You won't have much use for him for the rest of the day, at least. More if the skin breaks."

"I understand. Thank you. But please, try to not make it _look_ like you're holding back. And we never had this conversation," the prince smiled thinly.

"Of course not, Your Highness."

"Good man. I will reward you highly for this… but if something happens… if he dies… you're the next one on the pole."

"Understood, My Lord," the man bowed.

The gossip had spread through the castle like wildfire, and, although Robin was moving things along as quickly as he could, there wasn't an empty window surrounding them as they stood in the inner courtyard. The pole here was rarely used, only when inhabitants of the castle itself were punished, but it stood in plain sight, as a reminder.

Robin thought he winced more than the slave did as the first strike landed. He had to steel himself not to look_ sorry_ for his pet. The anger about what the man had been about to do, maybe already _done_ countless times, still burned hot enough to bury most of his empathy, however.

Slade grunted. Five. The lashes stung like nettles from hell, but he was surprised they weren't worse. The executioner also left space between each welt, making it less probable that they would split into open wounds. As he had never met the headsman the slave could only surmise that this was, for some reason, by order from the prince. Still, the punishment hurt, and seemed to take forever. Never had counting to fifteen taken so long. He kept his head pressed to the pole, gaze down, because most of the faces around him were either looking fascinated or leering. This was the scandal of the year for the castle, no doubt. Slade tightened his jaw. When he was king of this place, he'd have this pole ripped up. After whipping little Lord Blackgate to death on it, preferably. By the tone of the noble's voice Slade had assumed that he had something to do with this, but what, exactly…? He would find out and then he just needed an excuse…

"Prince Robin."

Robin didn't even turn around when he heard his father's greeting, afraid that that would make it look like he couldn't bear to watch the punishment.

"Your Majesty," he replied shortly.

"Did your slave misbehave?"

_No, I'm doing this for the entertainment of it_, Robin thought dryly to himself.

"It seemed he hadn't understood one of the basic rules," the prince replied.

"Well, that was careless of you. You need to explain things very plainly when it comes to servants and slaves."

"Yes, Sir, I have learned that now," Robin nodded.

"Good. I am glad to see you are punishing him properly, however. He won't be likely to… _stray _again. My duties are calling me, but I would like to see you for dinner in the main hall tonight."

"Yes, thank you, Sir." Robin nodded, trying not to blush from the 'stray' comment. Of course the king had heard _exactly_ why Slade was being whipped, and probably a worse version of it as well.

"That's fifteen, My Lord. What shall we do with him now?" the executioner asked.

"Clean him up and take him to my rooms. He's not to leave them," Robin answered. He watched the man being unchained and heard a grunt of pain from him when his arms were lowered, but then he turned away. He didn't have to watch anymore, and frankly, he didn't want to. His anger had lessened with each stroke and now he just felt… sick.

"My Lord?" Alfred had appeared at his side. The old man had probably been there since the punishment began, but the prince hadn't noticed. "Would you like to change the schedule for today?"

"No. The fencing class would have been over now… what's next?"

"Mostly paperwork, My Lord. Are you sure you-?"

"Yes. It's fine. Bring it to the throne room."

"Not your private study?"

Robin made a face. Returning to his own quarters with Slade just a couple of rooms away? "No."

Slade was lying on his bunk, on his stomach. He had been washed with cloths soaked in cold water, and not very gently, but he had said nothing, barely moved. He felt hot, and still shivers were running up and down his spine, making him shake slightly. It was not a true fever, he knew; even if he had some open wounds it was too soon for any infection to set in. This was merely shock; the body's way to try to deal with, and understand, the pain. He had expected it to be more or less over with the last strike, but instead his flesh had swelled up, causing more strain on the welts. It reminded him of a really bad sunburn he had gotten as a youth, that had left him feverish as well and every attempt to move brought pain.

Robin worked all through the day until evening, when he had Alfred bring him a change of clothes so he could join his father and the crème de la crème of Gotham City. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, but didn't feel that hungry. He picked amongst the delicacies while trying to converse politely with the other guests about absolutely nothing at all. He had a glass of wine. And another. And another. He managed to leave the dinner with his dignity intact, however, if just barely.

It wasn't until he saw Slade on the cot that Robin remembered why he hadn't wanted to go back to his rooms. He had shooed Alfred away already, although the valet had been reluctant to leave his prince alone in his condition.

"Oh," The prince said when he laid eyes on his slave. "So here you are, huh…?" his voice was slurred, but he didn't hear it himself. "You 'wake?... You… 'kay?"

Slade didn't open his eye. He'd rather pretend to be asleep than deal with the prince right now and the boy was drunk as well. The prince, however sat or almost fell down on the side of his cot.

"You… you are so stupid…" the young man mumbled, starting to stroke the slave's hair. "You… almost… you almost ruined it… don't you see? Don't you see that they… that… they would have… would have take- taken you_ away_ from me?" the prince hiccupped and then burped quite loudly. "I… I have to… to control you… I… I'm… I'm sorry…" With what sounded like a dry sob the prince got unsteadily to his feet and, after just a few steps, collapsed on his own bed. Soft snoring was heard just seconds later.

The man _did_ understand now. He remembered the King saying that he would take Slade away from the prince if he brought any 'disgrace' to him. In fact, the prince had told him that too. He should have known better than to flirt with someone else… at least that _openly_. He had been an idiot and he had paid for it. He had to consider that fair, in the end. He would have punished a disobedient subordinate as well, and maybe even harsher, depending on the crime, and, considering how taboo sex was here… Slade snorted softly to himself. He had really chosen the wrong time and place for it.

* * *

"Good morning Si-"

"Nooo… let me sleep…" Robin groaned and pulled the covers closer around him. He felt terrible and he was uncomfortable as well. Was he still wearing his shoes?

"I think an infusion for your headache might be recommended. I have a cup prepared, My Lord, if you would just sit up."

Robin grumbled. Alfred couldn't be deterred when he used that voice. He rolled over and sat up with another groan. At once his eyes fell on Slade who was still on his cot. The prince swallowed uncomfortably. The man's head was turned away from him, but his back...

"Oh, god…" the young man whispered, staring at the long, angry red welts and bruises.

"I took the liberty of acquiring a cream for your slave's back, which will reduce the swelling and the pain… but only if you _want_ it to be used, of course," Alfred let him know and pressed a mug of a steaming tea-like beverage into the prince's hands.

"Yes… Yes, of course!" Robin stuttered and swallowed a few mouthfuls of the infusion that would, hopefully, settle his headache. "I mean… I want him to be back on his feet, so… yes," he said, trying not to sound, and feel, guilty. He had done the right thing. Maybe he should have explained the rules a bit more clearly, but Slade should have known better. He really should.

"Very well, Sir. I've cleared your schedule for this morning as it's nearly ten already."

"Could you clear the rest of the day as well?" Robin wanted to know, swallowing the rest of the brew.

"I could, Sir, but are you not worried that would be seen as a sign of… weakness?"

Robin grunted. Yes, Alfred was right. It would seem like he was sulking about his slave or that he was so hung over that he was incapacitated.

"I'm never drinking wine again," he muttered.

"Well, My Lord, if you had only had your usual_ one_ glass…" his valet pointed out.

"Thank you, I know," the prince sighed.

Slade had pretended to be asleep all through this, mainly because he didn't really feel like getting up as the skin across his back was stretched so tautly. He had to at one point or another, however, and stirred, turning his head around, hissing from only that movement. The prince was quickly by his side, and gently touched his hair.

"Stay where you are, Slade, you don't have to get up. We'll get a lotion on your back which will help with the pain, and you can stay in my rooms today."

"Thank you, Master," the man ground out and then steeled himself for the rest; "I'm terribly sorry I dishonored you. I understand now what a crime it was and I hope you will someday forgive me."

"I thought you understood that you were mine," the prince said sternly, "but I do forgive you. The punishment is over and that means the crime is behind us. After all, that is what punishments are for. But I have to ask, and tell me the truth… Did you bed her?"

"No, Master. It was only that kiss, and that got… interrupted."

The prince snorted, obviously not appreciating the humor. "Fine. If you do anything like this again, however, I'll have you gelded." It was not a joke, Slade could see that clearly in the young man's eyes. The look softened, however, when the prince continued. "To prove that you are forgiven, I will apply the cream myself."

"My Lord, are you sure?" Alfred, who clearly didn't think that was appropriate, asked.

"Yes. When I rode Summer, a few years back and didn't notice she had a loose shoe, making her trip, I tended to her leg for weeks, didn't I?"

"You did, My Lord, but-"

"Slade is my responsibility too. I have to take care of him. After all, he has no one else," Robin said softly and played with the man's hair again.

Slade only gave him a small smile, wondering what the young man would say once he realized he indeed had quite a few people behind him. Well _armed_ people at that.

Alfred agreed, but not until the prince was dressed and ready for the day. Well… what remained of it. Robin was then handed the jar and swallowed quietly. He didn't feel as sure of himself as he had sounded. He was, basically, afraid of making things worse, but he followed the instructions on the note from the castle's physician and cleaned his hands properly first, before cleaning the blistering back as well. Robin could tell it hurt, but he moved on, hoping Slade would appreciate it being done sooner instead of later. As he carefully dried the skin off, he drew a breath of relief.

"There we go, now for the cream…"

First it felt icy cold against his skin, then it burned, but soon the man could feel the numbing effect. The salve was apparently very strong, and Slade appreciated it. He wondered if it contained poppy seeds like some of the strongest pain remedies in the mountains did. Whatever was in there, though, let him relax a little for the first time in twenty four hours.

"There. Better?" the prince asked.

"Yes, Master, thank you," Slade nodded.

"Good," Robin said, and, before he stood up, he did something that made the slave's eye widen a bit; he patted the man's ass. The young man then walked out of the room followed by his valet. Slade's and Alfred's gazes connected for the briefest of moments, but the older man's face was unreadable. Slade wasn't sure what the man thought of him, but he clearly hadn't warmed up to him like his prince had… or maybe he wasn't quite as gullible. Although, Slade had to admit, it was hard to find anyone as gullible as the prince… well, he amended, when it came to_ personal_ things, at least, because he had seen the young man be as sharp and shrewd as anyone, and the reason he was naïve about other matters was hardly his fault. Like the patting right now. It was impossible to hate the prince for it, because he didn't _mean _it to be demeaning. He didn't _try_ to humiliate Slade, after all, the man knew. The pats, as well as the way he liked to play with his hair, were signs of _affection_; after all, that's how you showed fondness for a pet, wasn't it? Sure, the prince was aware of his status, and it was so far above the one of a slave that they actually might really have _been_ different species. But, again, that wasn't his fault; that wasn't only how he had been raised, it was also the only world he had ever seen. Slade doubted the young man had traveled much, probably not even been out of the country, and he had never met people who questioned his authority in any way… so why would he? The man chuckled dryly as he realized that he was, for some reason, defending the boy, but he _did_ see some of himself in him. He hadn't grown up nearly as sheltered, and had already sized power at the prince's age, but he knew what it was like to be surrounded by people who didn't dare to disagree with him, and that that might lead to terrible mistakes.

Slade didn't have time to think about the little prince anymore, because at that moment two servants came in to tidy up the young man's rooms. It was the same ones who had showed him how the bath worked when he had first arrived, and the man realized that all the servants he had seen in the prince's quarters had been boys or men. He wondered if it was a coincidence, but probably not. Better to keep temptation away from young men, he guessed. Especially as that temptation might lead to illegitimate contenders to the throne.

Slade greeted the men, but they seemed very uncomfortable.

"What? You lads never got whipped for trying to kiss a woman?" he grinned, which instantly lifted the tension. They talked and joked while one of the men changed the prince's sheets and the other cleaned out and restacked the fireplace. Slade, carefully, got on his feet, as he really had to relieve himself, and when he got back his own sheets were changed as well.

"Thank you, they were starting to smell," he nodded. "So… I hope Cassidy didn't get in trouble?"

"Trouble? She has had three marriage proposals so far today!" one, Aron, Slade thought his name was, chuckled.

"Really?" Slade blinked.

"Yeah," the other one, Ben, said. "You might be a slave, but you are the _prince's_… umm… _personal_ one… so you're practically the prince in some people's eyes. And if _you're _interested in _her_…"

"Ah, I see…" the northern king chuckled.

"I heard even the blacksmith asked," Aron gossiped as he tidied up.

"She wouldn't do bad there, a blacksmith is never out of a job," Ben nodded.

Slade only feigned interest in the conversation. He guessed being a wife might be better than long, hard days in a hot kitchen with people shouting orders, but on the other hand, she would most likely lose interest in Slade if she accepted a proposal… not that he was serious about the maid; all he wanted was some fun and if the fun might actually ruin her life, it wasn't really worth it to the man. He'd wish her good luck if he ran into her again, after all, bar parting her legs, he doubted there was more she could really do for him.

The day went by slowly for Slade. He was sent lunch and even some fruit, so the prince obviously hadn't forgotten about him. He moved carefully, because although the pain from the whipping had been taken away by the cream, he knew it was only temporary. When he checked his back in the mirror in the afternoon, however, it didn't look too bad. He had no idea how his back had looked this morning, but judging by the prince's reaction it had to have been worse then. It wouldn't scar, something he was grateful for, because he didn't need a permanent reminder of something like this.

He read, but it was uncomfortable to either stand or lie on his stomach to do so, and all other positions were unthinkable. As the effect of the lotion began to wear off the pain came back, but it was lessened now, not much more than a light sunburn this time.

The prince was bored as well. Bored and worried about his slave. He spent the day mostly socializing with people as his inner circle had been complaining that he had abandoned them since he got his pet. Robin realized that he_ had_ actually spent most of his time with only Slade and also that he hadn't missed the others in the least. Bryant was there as well, looking smug, but the prince tried to ignore him as much as possible without being rude. That didn't discourage Lord Blackgate at all though.

"I hope your slave isn't dead?" he began.

"Of course not," Robin snorted. "He'll be fine by tomorrow," he added, hoping that would be true.

"After a whipping?" Lord Riley gasped. "I have heard those can kill you!"

"Not Slade, he's a very strong man, after all," the prince gloated.

"Oh, I don't know. Father has let me pick one for myself, and he's quite a strong man as well," Bryant scoffed. "Yes, yours is somewhat taller and heavier, but you know that those big oafs are rather useless when it comes to actual strength. Like fighting."

"When Slade is well again we can see, Blackgate," Robin smirked. "And where is this famous slave of yours?"

"Oh, he'll… be arriving in a few days. Father sent for him specially," the young man claimed. "I will keep him as my bodyguard, though. I see no other use for him."

"No, well, you wouldn't," the prince leered, knowing better.

"Ah, but you misunderstand me, Robin," Bryant leered back and leaned a little closer to the prince. "You see, _I_ wouldn't lower myself to seek pleasure from a slave. _Gentlemen_, after all, should seek their company from each _other_… isn't that right, Lindon?" he asked and turned to Lord Riley, whose first name Robin hadn't even known before now. Well, he remembered it now, so he guessed he had only forgotten. The strawberry blonde blushed a bit and looked away, while mumbling a "Yes, Lord Blackgate," making the prince wonder what exactly the vile boy had made him do.

"That's one way to see it, I guess, but I'd rather have an _experienced _tutor than a fumbling fool in that area," Robin snorted.

"He's experienced, alright, bedding every maid in the castle," Bryant giggled.

Next a sharp slap rang out through the room, followed by a yelp. Robin lowered his hand, the back of it having connected quite hard with the young lord's cheek. Bryant, quite wide-eyed clutched it.

"How dare you insult my property?" Robin hissed. "One day I will be your king, you would do well to remember that!"

The prince could see expressions flickering across the lord's face, like an internal battle raged inside him. For a moment Robin almost thought the young man would strike back, but that would be considered an attack equal with treason, and might lead to a death penalty. Robin almost _hoped_ he would strike, but instead the young man collected himself and gave a little bow. It was too shallow to be much more than a mocking gesture, however.

"I apologize. It was meant as a joke, My Lord. The drawback of having a sharp tongue, I'm afraid."

_The drawback of being a complete jerk, you mean?_ Robin thought darkly to himself, but he had noticed the 'My Lord' and hoped that meat Blackgate had taken his warning seriously. He didn't voice any form of pardon, however, just nodded shortly and turned to talk to Lord Gordon about horses, as that young man actually owned a few decent ones.

At last, when the late afternoon finally arrived, he could excuse himself for a valid reason: he had a lesson to attend.

"Master," Slade greeted the prince with a bow, although it was a bit shallower than usual.

"Slade!" the young man rushed forwards like he was the eager puppy this time, and started to feel his face for some reason. "How are you feeling? You don't have a fever, do you?"

"No, Master, and the cream really worked," the man answered.

"Let me be the judge of that, turn around," the prince ordered and as Slade was still shirtless, he could see the result immediately. "Yes, it really does look a lot better," he confirmed. "I have a lecture shortly, but after that and dinner, I'll apply a new coat, if you want?"

"I'd be very grateful, Sir," the man said honestly. "If I may ask, what is the lesson in?"

"Strategy. Mainly war strategy. Usually we look at historic wars and I'm supposed to figure out what went right or wrong and alternative tactics."

"Sounds a little dull, My Lord," Slade smiled, remember his own lessons as a child.

"It does, but it's surprisingly interesting. I like to try to solve problems that seem impossible. Like chess. That's a game where-"

"Yes, Master, I know about chess," Slade nodded with a chuckle.

The prince blinked, as it was not a very common game, and absolutely not one for the masses. "You… don't happen to know how to… play it?" he asked carefully.

"Yes, I do."

"Fantastic! I so rarely get to play and frankly, the competition here is very poor… When you are comfortable again we'll play."

"I'm looking forward to it, Master," Slade nodded. He _did_, in a way; chess was one of his favorite pastimes in the long winter months.

"You know what, Slade?" Robin had a small grin on his face, which made his blue eyes really light up. "It's like your former masters trained you just for me…"

* * *

_To Be Continued…._

A/N: aw, wasn't that sweet? If only Robin knew… ah, well, not yet, I'm afraid. Long story, remember? Hopefully you're not bored yet. Review and tell me.


	8. A Horse Made And a Wife to Make

A/N: thank you to **Amirrel **for being the beta for this chapter! Any remaining mistakes are my fault due to rewriting stuff… ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 8: A Horse Made And a Wife to Make**

After sleeping in, Robin was surprised when he started yawning over dinner. He was still a little tired and… drained… after everything that had happened so he retired early, leaving Slade to do as he wanted as long as he stayed in his rooms. He didn't ask for any of the man's special talents either, as he was too weary, and Slade's back, even with the new coat of cream, needed to heal in peace.

All that sleep led him to awaken very early the next morning. He sat up as the first rays of the sun began to play on his bedcovers to discover Slade still soundly asleep, judging by the slow, heavy breathing coming from the cot. The man had a thin sheet draped over his back and, although Robin didn't want to disturb him, he also wanted to check the state of the man's injuries. He tiptoed over to the cot and carefully lifted the edge of the sheet.

Suddenly his wrist was caught in a crushing grip and the young man yelled out as he was slammed into the floor, the man on top of him and his elbow digging into the prince's throat. A little more pressure and Slade could easily crush it. Robin gasped for air, his eyes wide with fear as he stared up at the man who was supposed to be his devoted slave. Slade blinked and then his eye widened slightly as well.

"Master?"

"Get… off… me…" Robin panted, trying to sound assertive, but his voice betrayed him as it trembled slightly.

"I told you I used to be a soldier, Master. I should have warned you about sneaking up on me when I am sleeping," the man grunted and picked them both up from the floor. It was an explanation, although not really an apology, but Robin accepted it as such.

"I was just going to check on your back, but if you can move like that, I assume you can get dressed and come with me today?"

"Yes, Master," Slade nodded and stretched, testing the tenderness of the skin on his back. It wasn't too bad; it still felt a bit taut, but without having done anything much for two days, he had excess energy to burn. Therefore, he asked, "How about a little sword practice before breakfast?" not having much hope of the prince accepting the offer. Indeed Robin looked stunned, as if the man had suggested that they would go drop pigs from the highest tower, but then he seemed thoughtful.

"Alfred won't be here for two hours," he said, checking the clock on the mantelpiece. "Yes. Why not? Help me dress."

"Of course, but first," Slade said, placing a hand on the prince's shoulder to get his undivided attention. "There is something I haven't told you yet about Cassidy."

"Cassidy?"

"The maid."

"Oh. What?" Robin's voice had turned hard and cold.

"The reason I befriended her, because yes, it was only meant to be a friendship," Slade lied. "And only for one reason: to find out more about your past. She hinted that she knew something, but she didn't want to speak about it at first. I had to make her trust me."

"By kissing her?" the prince scoffed.

"I never actually _did _kiss her, but yes. I wasn't aware that you would see it as a betrayal, I would have done _anything _to uncover this secret, because I know it torments you." Slade was quite proud of the way he'd managed to say 'I will happily fuck around because you want me to', and luckily, the prince seemed to think it was a sign of devotion as well, although it confused him a bit. Before he had time to think about it too much, Slade told him what he had found out from the maid, and that, it seemed, made it worthwhile.

"Slade, maybe I _shouldn't_ have punished you," the young man said, looking a bit deflated. "You were working on my orders after all."

"Of course you should, Master," Slade told him sternly. "I did something in public that brought shame on you. I'm sure that if you had been the only one who had seen us you would have waited for my explanation," the man went on, knowing full well that he would still have the bruises if that were the case. By the way the prince's eyes flicked guiltily he knew it too, but chose not to comment on it.

"If the King left with only a few men and guards, chances are that some of the older guards were among them," the prince said thoughtfully.

"Sinclair and the others you mentioned, Master? Perhaps, but I'm afraid I haven't had the opportunity to find out who they are yet."

"I understand. It might seem suspicious if you approach them … I'll think about it," the prince let him know.

After leaving a note for Alfred, should he come by early, they left. If the guards had looked drowsy during the day, they were practically asleep now, but the prince was in a good mood and didn't seem to notice. _Slade_ did, however. When they arrived at the training hall, Robin strapped on the protective gear without even asking, making the man smirk as he picked out the practice swords. He handed one to the prince, and stepped just out of his range.

"Well, Robin. Show me what you remember."

"You… called me Robin…"

"I apologize, Master," Slade said quickly, cursing his slipping tongue. He had been thinking of the boy in much too familiar terms lately and in here, where he could put most of the slave act away… it had just happened.

"I… rather like it. It sounds very nice in your accent," the prince said as he blushed slightly, and then coughed. "I can't let you call me by my first name, however."

"Of course not! I will blame the early hour; I am still sleepy," the man grinned, lying again.

"Ah, so you call me by my first name in your dreams then, Slade?" the prince half teased, half accused him with a grin on his face.

"That is_ far_ from _all _I do to you in my dreams, Master," Slade struck back, winning the round as the young man's cheeks blossomed. "Now, what do you remember?"

Again, they lost all track of time. A small cough from a young servant boy standing in the doorway, finally put an end to their session. The boy looked almost terrified when his Prince's eyes locked on him and he bowed deeply.

"Please forgive me, Your Maj- I mean, Your Highness!" he said, his voice turning a bit squeaky as he stumbled on the titles. "Valet Pennyworth sent me to tell you that he has a bath and breakfast ready now."

"Thank you runner, you did a good job," Robin addressed him, as he didn't know the young lad's name. "You are excused."

The boy beamed at him, then bowed deeply once more before hurrying back to the servant's quarters for his next errand.

"Come on, Slade, we're in trouble," Robin sighed as he put his sword back. "He always sends runners when he's annoyed."

"Well, Master, maybe he should just make sure there's a clock in here?" Slade smirked.

"A very good idea," Robin chuckled. "Oh, and I was thinking: since the broadswords are used as cavalry weapons, is there a way we can practice on horseback some time?"

"Absolutely."

"Excellent!" the prince grinned delightedly at the man.

* * *

Alfred _was_ a little annoyed as he helped his master bathe and dress while Slade was left to wash up by himself.

"Really, your highness, you act like you have no schedule to keep," he said as he combed the young man's hair.

"Well, I wasn't aware of anything urgent this morning, Alfred," Robin claimed. "Besides, I'll be married soon enough; I need a few less duties right now."

"Don't we all, My Lord, don't we all…" the old man sighed.

"So, what_ is_ on my schedule today?"

"You have been invited to have lunch with the ambassador of Steel. He wanted to speak to you about his… daughters, I believe."

"Yes, all of them suddenly have daughters. Up until now I've only had their sons pushed in my face," Robin snorted. Slade gave a strange cough as he hurriedly dressed to be ready when the prince wanted to leave. "But fine, I'm guessing it is inevitable. Reply and tell him I'm-"

At that moment there was a knock on the door, and when Alfred opened it another runner stood outside.

"Urgent message to the Prince from the Stable Master, Sir," the boy said. "Rain is in heat, Sir. He says to tell you a message has been sent to the camp."

"Wonderful news!" Robin grinned as he got up. "Tell the Stable Master that we're on our way!"

"But, Sir-" Alfred began.

"This is fantastic!" the prince was still ecstatic. "I'm going to have a foal after the most beautiful horse in the world!"

"Yes, My Lord, but are you sure you actually want to _witness_-"

"Of course; I want to see Slayer again!" Robin exclaimed.

"But you have never actually _been _present before, and-"

"Well, there's a first time for everything, and I won't miss a minute when it comes to this foal!"

"Yes, but it's not really _appropriate_ to-"

"Alfred, stop arguing with your prince and help me find my waistcoat!" Robin snapped, although good-naturedly so, as he was far too excited to become even the slightest bit irritated.

Slade watched it all with an amused expression on his face. If the boy had never been to a horse mating before, and considering his naivety… the man chuckled to himself. _This could get entertaining._

When Slade and Robin arrived at the stables, Alfred having been excused to see to other duties, the mare stood in a small paddock to the side of the building. Slade was 'securely' held by the leash now as they were out together 'officially', so to speak, and not just sneaking off to a training session.

"She is a beautiful horse, Master, she'll do very well with that stallion," Slade said, and Robin nodded happily. They had to wait for a while but then a neigh was heard from the gates and Wintergreen showed up on his own horse, leading Slayer behind him. The stallion was the one who had made the sound and he was now sniffing the air.

"Slayer!" Robin exclaimed and took a step towards the horse before Slade's hand grabbed his upper arm.

"I apologize, Master, but you shouldn't go near him now. He's picked up her scent; he will be hard to handle in a moment."

"Oh," Robin said disappointedly, but did as his slave told him and stayed put.

The closer the stallion got, the more unruly he became. Normally, his excellent training could still let a good enough rider control him, but it was as if he knew something good was about to happen, and he couldn't wait.

It was only them, Wintergreen, the Stable Master, and a couple of older stable hands, around because it was still rather early. Slade, even though he was the one on the leash, had still managed to maneuver the prince to the fence where the boy would get a closer look at what was about to happen.

"Master, if you have any questions, you can ask me," he told the prince quietly.

"Questions? About what? Oh, what is THAT?" Robin gasped and pointed at Slayer who was about to be let into the paddock. "Is he okay? It's like something falling out of…oh."

"Yes, that's his cock," Slade chuckled, again very quietly, into the boy's ear.

"It's… they get _that_ big?!"

"On horses, yes. Dax is a stallion, after all, you haven't seen this before?"

"No, he's my only one and I haven't had him long…" Robin mumbled. "But it's like an… extra _leg_!"

"Well, I'm not sure if it's quite that bi-"

"It _MOVED_!" Luckily, the prince kept his voice down to an excited whisper and the stablehands were too focused on the horses, making sure the mare showed the right signs of being receptive, or she might kick the stallion badly.

"She's ready; just let him in, there's no way we're going to be able to hold that monster," the Stable Master ordered, and the gate was opened.

Slayer all but stormed in, but then stopped dead. He continued to close in on the mare more slowly, his upper lip flaring as he scented her further. However, the Stable Master had read Robin's horse perfectly; she was ready and stood still, letting the stallion sniff her genitals. When it dawned on Slayer that he wouldn't be turned down, he all but threw himself on her back.

"WHAT IS H- MMpppfff!" the prince exclaimed, his voice getting cut off by Slade's hand.

"I'm sorry, Master, but you have to keep quiet; you can't startle them now," Slade said and then slowly removed his hand.

"But he's… he's trying to… and he's so big! He's going to hurt her! OH!" The prince's eyes went impossibly wide as the stallion found its target and pushed in.

"Don't worry, does she seem hurt?" Slade said. He had been right, this _was_ amusing.

"But… he's so… so brutal! He's such a _beast_!"

"He's a _man_," Slade grinned.

"I don't understand how it can all… fit…" the prince said weakly.

"Oh, body orifices tend to be able to stretch more than one might think, Master. Humans' do too." The man wasn't sure if the prince would be able to catch that innuendo, but from the way the boy craned his head back, stared up at him speechlessly and began to blush, it seemed he did.

Robin watched the horse thrust into his mare with a mix of awe, disgust and… something else he didn't really want to acknowledge. He was caged between the fence and Slade, the man standing so close behind him that their bodies were touching. Robin looked over at the mare, which stood at the other side of the fence, also, it seemed, trapped between it and… he quickly looked away, hoping fervently that no one had been able to read his mind at that point. Especially after what Slade had just told him about how things… stretched. Did he really mean..? Was it possible to…? No… But Slayer had just… and he was absolutely _massive_! But Rain was a mare after all, and Robin was- No. No. He wouldn't even think about it; it was a waste anyway, because even if he wanted to, he couldn't try.

Robin kept his mouth shut as the stallion dismounted, even though he saw quite a few weird and terrifying things_ then_ as well. He was aware that Slade had been laughing a bit at him, but he couldn't bring himself to be angry about that, especially since he suspected that he _had_ acted rather… foolishly. As the horses broke apart, they behaved as if nothing had happened. Then Rain raised her head, spotted her master, who usually had a treat for her, and ambled over.

"Hi girl… he didn't hurt you, did he?" Robin whispered to the horse as he fed her a piece of sugar he had grabbed on his way out. He kept a stash in his room just for the horses, though Alfred scolded him for giving such an expensive commodity to animals. "I'm sorry if he did, but you're going to have such a beautiful baby, you'll see…"

"With your permission, Sir," the Stable Master spoke up behind the prince, although Robin heard by his tone that he wasn't speaking to him, "If we can keep him here for a few days, just to make sure it takes."

"That is perfectly acceptable. This is an honor for us," the trader replied.

Robin turned around and smiled at the men, trying to look nonchalant, like he watched these kinds of things every day. He was rather glad he didn't.

"If Slayer stays, may I take him for a ride?" he asked the trader. It was the Stable Master who answered, however.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but the horses are not to be disturbed. Besides, a stallion with a mare in heat around can be very unpredictable."

"I see," Robin couldn't hide his disappointment, but he respected the man's order. Then he thought of something more enjoyable. "How soon will we know?"

"Not for a while yet; if she doesn't go into her next heat that's a good indication, and then the longer wait begins…" the Stable Master smiled. "I will of course let you know at the first sign, Your Highness," he added.

Robin grinned and patted his mare's neck.

"Just think, Rain… in eleven months I will get to see your foal be born!"

Slade smiled and nodded as well, even though he knew that time would not come. Robin wouldn't be alive by then. The man didn't gloat as he thought about this, as he might have before. It was something that_ had_ to happen if he was to take over the country, and he _was_. No one could stand his way, especially with the Grand Laws of the known world demanding the prince's death as well as the king's.

"Why the long face, Slade?" the boy suddenly asked him, and the man was awoken from his brooding.

"Oh, nothing, Master."

"Really?" the prince smirked and then pulled the man down to his level by the leash to whisper in his ear. "You looked like you wished you were the stallion!" With a snicker he broke away and, letting go of the lead, started to walk back towards the main castle, grinning at the man from over his shoulder. Slade couldn't help but grin back. _That little minx… I swear, one day soon, I'm going to…_

However, his thoughts were interrupted by Wintergreen, who stepped up to the fence pretending to watch the horses.

"All well?" the man mouthed.

"Fine," was Slade's reply.

"Heard troublesome rumors."

"They were true, but there's no time to talk. Come to the door over there at midnight," Slade said and indicated the door to the manure piles with a quick nod.

"Yes, My Lord," his second-in-command agreed as Slade hurried after his young master.

Robin had a hard time getting his blush to go down. He couldn't_ believe_ what he had just said! At least it was only to his slave and not to one of the aristocrats or servants… Slade soon caught up with him in an empty corridor.

"You were right Master," the man said in a low voice which seemed to burn through the prince. "I wouldn't mind being the stallion… although it's not the mare I'd like to mount."

"Slade!" Robin half laughed, half gasped, looking around to make sure no one heard his naughty pet. "You shouldn't say things like that!"

"Is it so revolting that I desire you?" Slade asked with a chuckle.

"No! No, but… it's how… you know that it can't happen!" Robin sounded like he lamented that fact.

"Not literally, no, but there are other ways; ways that wouldn't break your rules, Master… I could mount you, fuck you, and you'd remain pure."

"H-How?" the prince felt his arousal strain against his breeches, embarrassingly obvious.

"Let me show you, My Prince," Slade purred.

"Yes. Hurry." The young man grabbed the slave's leash again tightly, and began dragging him towards his chambers.

When they entered the front room of the prince's quarters the young man locked the outer door from the inside and then, as he turned around, Slade took over and pushed him up against the door, kissing him hard. The boy had clearly not been prepared for that, but only moments after their lips crashed together he all but melted in the man's arms. The supposed slave then picked him up, hands under the prince's ass, and carried him to the bedroom where he dropped the young man on the bed. He quickly climbed on top of him, fingers seeking out and popping open the buttons on the waistcoat, then the shirt. He managed not to rip a single one out, which was quite a feat, and soon the prince eagerly helped shrug all his layers off so that Slade could focus on the breeches.

Not long afterwards they were both naked, still kissing, Slade still on top. It was time to show the little prince what he had meant, though.

"We need some body oil or mild lotion, Master," Slade said as he drew back a little.

"B-bathroom… green glass bottle. My skin gets very dry in the winter… there should be some left…" the young man panted.

Slade quickly found the right one and returned to the bed as he uncorked it; smelling it to make sure it hadn't gone bad. It smelled faintly of flowers, so he was sure it was alright.

"On your hands and knees, Master," he ordered, slicking his shaft up. He felt of rush of pleasure as the boy obeyed him without question, eagerly sticking that pert little ass up in the air for him to take… although he couldn't do that, of course. He still slid his cock between those rounded cheeks and over the entrance there, pushing at it a little, fantasizing about sinking into its tight heat. The prince squirmed; obviously worried he would do just that. The man gripped the boy's hips firmly, holding him in place as he slid down into the position he had to settle for.

Robin moaned as the head of the man's shaft pressed against his opening. It felt so good, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why it would. He almost wished the man would try to break the rules again, but he knew he couldn't let him get away with that. He then felt the man's length move down and push between his legs instead.

"Squeeze your thighs together… good boy…"

Hearing the order he obeyed, liking the feeling of the oiled up, hot pole sliding against his sensitive inner thighs. It got even better when one of Slade's hands moved around his hip and began stroking his own length, coating that in the oil as well.

Robin closed his eyes and pushed his behind up even higher in the air. He could so easily picture Slade as the stallion now, mounting him, pumping his long, thick manhood into him… It didn't even register with the prince that he imagined himself in the mare's position even though he was the master of the two. It just felt _right_ to him, not demeaning at all. Studs were brought in to _service_ the mares, after all, and that's what his slave was doing; servicing him. Slade was even as brutal as Slayer, slamming into him now, his hand working faster and faster as well. Robin cried out, on the edge of coming when the man suddenly pulled back and then flipped the surprised and frustrated young man over.

Holding the prince's legs together Slade pushed the boy's knees up slightly and sank in between the thighs again, the slender legs now resting over one of the man's shoulders. The friction wasn't as satisfying as actually fucking someone, or having someone's hand or mouth around his cock for that matter, but it was enough, and he was very close. Just like he hoped, the expression of pure lust on the boy's face urged him on further, and he resumed stroking the young man as well until the boy arched up and, with a cry, came all over his own stomach.

Robin was in the middle of his throes of passion when something warm splattered across his face and into his mouth, he opened his eyes only to have another round hit his lips and chest, and then saw and felt a third one land on his stomach. It was the man's seed, and the prince felt a little bit of horror poke through his pleasure filled mind. He had gotten it in his mouth, after all, he could taste it! The man had noticed his expression and merely chuckled before he scooted back, bent down, and licked a trail up from the tip of Robin's cock to his chest, collecting both of their semen as he went along. Seeing this, the boy relaxed a little since it obviously wasn't dangerous to swallow if Slade did it, and then the man pressed his mouth to his own and there was more of that slightly weird taste on the man's tongue. The prince met it with his own, licking and sucking until he could only taste the man again.

"Mmm…" he smiled. Having been brought up to eat all kinds of strange delicacies, man-seed wasn't half bad. He got a grin in reply.

"You seem hungry, Master… not surprising since we haven't even had breakfast yet…"

"You're right and… oh! It's close to lunchtime, we have to get ready!" Robin exclaimed, having glanced at the clock on the mantle. "Damn…" he added with a sigh and kissed Slade's lips again longingly. "One day soon, I'll clear my schedule and spend the whole day in bed with you…" he grinned at the man.

"It would be my pleasure," Slade chuckled deeply.

"Yes, it would," the prince snickered.

* * *

"Ambassador," Robin nodded curtly exactly thirty minutes later. Both he and Slade were properly dressed; the slave again wearing black. By now more clothes had arrived for him, although most were in that color on the prince's insistence. His slave now had a little wardrobe of his own which would, of course, grow in time.

"Your Highness!" the man bowed deeply. He was not an unpleasant man at all, maybe slightly boring, but it was the threat of him speaking about his unmarried daughters that Robin feared, and rightfully so. The lunch lasted for nearly two hours and by the end of it, the young man could recite each daughter's virtues in his sleep. He had also been given miniature portraits of them, which might or might not look like the girls in question, at least from the shoulders up.

Slade had spent the two hours standing behind the prince, hoping his stomach didn't grumble too loudly at the smell of the food. His master was aware that he hadn't eaten either, however, and as there were several courses there was no way he could eat it all, so he handed dishes back to the man now and then.

"I understand if my behavior seems strange," Robin excused himself, "but he's my new slave and I merely want him to be familiar with what I like."

"Of course, I'm glad my chef's cooking pleases Your Highness," the man beamed. "Now, my Patricia is very fond of cooking as well…"

"Yes, so I've heard," Robin smiled patiently. "Isn't she very young, though?"

"She's fourteen, My Lord, so she'll be looking for a husband soon enough," the man smiled fondly. "They grow up so fast."

Robin smiled back for real this time because he could actually hear in the man's voice that he loved his children, and that, the prince thought, should be respected. His eyes fell on a portrait that stood out a little from the others. "Lord DiMaggio, your daughter here, Eleanor, she doesn't seem to be wearing a dress…?"

"Ah, no, she insisted on being painted in her riding outfit." the man sighed. "Her mother almost got hysterical in the end…"

"She likes horses?" Robin asked, real interest in his voice for the first time.

"To a fault, My Lord. She's almost seventeen and I'm afraid she's lacking in both her musical and embroidering skills as she tends to spend so much time in the stables. She even wants to go hunting, the little dear…"

"I am very interested in horses myself, in fact today-" the prince stopped himself from having to explain what he had witnessed and continued, "Today, I found out that one of my mares might be expecting a foal at the end of the year."

"That is very good news, Your Highness," the ambassador nodded, looking like he didn't quite know what the prince might be getting at.

"I have never met a woman who likes horses as much as I do," Robin said, thoughtfully. "Perhaps, for my birthday, you could invite her here?"

"I… I'd be delighted!" the man exclaimed, his biggest hopes for this lunch apparently fulfilled. "May I invite her sisters as well, My Lord? My Eleanor is charming for sure, but she is not the most beautiful _or_ well mannered of my angels, I'm afraid."

"Please do," the prince nodded amiably. "Now, I think I will have to excuse myself. It's been a lovely lunch, Ambassador; I hope to see you again soon."

The man bowed almost to the floor as they left, obviously itching to write to his family and have them start packing immediately. Slade wagered that a messenger on the fastest horse in the stable would leave the city's gates within an hour.

"Well, Master, may I be the first to congratulate you on your engagement?" Slade said in a wry voice.

"I'm not engaged yet… but a woman who likes to ride… that's at least _interesting_. I didn't know women liked that."

"Some more than others…" Slade said under his breath, and then added in a louder voice; "Women don't ride here, Master?"

"Not often, as far as I know. They seem more interested in wearing dresses for some reason," the prince said, pondering the mysterious fairer sex.

"Well, I will miss you, My Lord," Slade let him know.

"Miss me?" the prince halted for a moment to look up at him, blinking.

"Yes, once you're married you won't keep me around, will you?" Slade asked. He knew it would never come to that, of course, but he was only curious about how the prince saw the situation.

"Of course I will!" Robin even gripped the man's leash tighter as if someone was trying to take him away that very moment.

"Do you think your wife will approve?"

"She will have no say in that! But that reminds me, I'm going to make sure you are mentioned in our marriage contract so that there won't be any complaints."

"I'm flattered, My Lord," Slade chuckled.

"M-hmm…" the prince mumbled absentmindedly as they continued their walk. "Oh, and Slade?"

"Yes?"

"Once I'm married… the hands and mouth rule no longer applies," he said with a little smile.

"Is that so? And it wouldn't be considered cheating?"

The prince let out an airy chuckle, "Oh, Slade, you can't be unfaithful with your own bedroom slave! Even I know _that_ much! As long as it's in the contract, it's perfectly acceptable."

"Well in that case, Master, " the man smirked, "I think you should get married straight away."

_To Be Continued…._

* * *

A/N: Well I said in the first chapter that I'd be naming places, and also people from actual places/people in the Gotham City realm… some I've also named after readers, and others yet with name generators.. ;) I thought I should make a special mention of the ambassador of Steel, however, because I named him after the voice actor portraying Brother Blood. The character has absolutely NOTHING to do with Blood (after all, he was a priest killed off a long time ago in this story), however, it was just my mind going Steel City-Brother Blood-John DiMaggio… just if someone also made that connection, now you know… ;)


	9. You Can Take a Horse To Water

**A/N: **Thank you to **elyador** for being my beta for this chapter. If you are a member of my facebook group you are welcome to help beta this story as well… so far we're NOT running out of chapters… ;) The downside, of course, is that you have to wait two weeks for a new chapter after having edited one… the perk? Well, maybe the chapter before YOURS will have a cliffhanger? Who knows? ;)

If you want to join the group, give me your facebook name and I'll give you the link.

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 9: You Can Take a Horse To Water But You Can't Make It Drink**

Robin hurried through some paperwork after lunch and then told Alfred that he intended to go riding. The valet just nodded so there probably wasn't anything more important the young man needed to do that day.

As they passed the stables Robin made a little sound and Slade, following his line of vision, chuckled as he saw that Slayer was working again. The prince looked away quite quickly this time, although he seemed to be sneaking peeks.

The stablehands warned the prince from taking Dax out today as he was all but impossible to handle, smelling the mare in heat, so Robin decided to take his old mare Summer out instead.

"Summer, Fog, Rain… do I sense a theme with your horse's names, Master?" Slade asked as he saddled Fog for himself.

"Well, I always liked to name them after weather or seasons. Dax was named when I bought him, though, and I thought it suited him. I think I'll name the foal 'Storm'."

"So sure it will be a colt?" the slave asked.

"'Storm' works for a filly too," Robin shrugged. "I'm sure that it will be impressive enough so the name will suit it perfectly," he added with a grin.

They rode at a much slower pace this time, taking their time. The man pointed out some stumps of dead trees and shrubs to the prince.

"If you want to do some sword training on horseback, I could prepare simple dummies and bind them to those trunks," he said. "All I need is some old sacs and a bit of straw."

"What, you won't let me target _you_?" the prince grinned.

"Well, yes, you _will_ need to learn how to parry a pitch-fork, but I'd rather you chop a tree to pieces than me, if you don't mind, Master," the man chuckled.

"Seems fair, I _do_ want you around, after all," Robin smiled back. "You have your uses."

After they came back after the relaxing ride and had handed the horses over to the stable boys, Alfred came to meet them.

"Your Highness, may I have a word?" he said, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Yes, Alfred?" Robin said as he attached Slade's lead.

"I have noticed that you have been a bit… _strained_, lately, and now, while there is still time before your birthday, I thought I'd suggest that you take some time off. Go to the hunting lodge, perhaps, for a week?"

"That sounds amazing, how soon can we leave?" Robin asked, looking excited.

"Tomorrow, if you wish, My Lord," the old man told him. "I'm afraid I'm not going, however; someone has to stay here and keep an eye on the preparations, but I'll arrange for servants to come to make you comfortable. And … maybe you should invite the young lords?"

"I _knew_ there was a downside to this…" Robin muttered. "Yes, I guess I have to, but could we hold them off? Tell them that the house is being prepared and that it will take a few days, so they won't be there the whole time?"

"Certainly, Sir, but no more than two days or so," the old man smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"That's fine," the prince beamed, but then his smile slipped a little. "Wait…that look… you heard about the girl, didn't you? _That_ is why you suddenly think I deserve some time off?"

"I'm afraid so, My Lord."

"How fast does gossip _travel_ in this place?" the prince sighed resignedly.

"I don't wish to get anyone in trouble, Sir, but the ambassador's valet and I are old friends."

"I see. Well, better you heard it close to the source than from the kitchen," the young man nodded. "But if he gossiped, so can you; how do you view the family? Are they respectable?"

"Very much so, Sir. Personally I feel that any one of the young ladies would be a good choice."

"I'm glad to hear it. I want this matter settled as fast as possible, but I do want to meet the lady first, of course. I won't make a decision before then."

"Of course not, Sir. But I do have to say that you being out of the castle when the rumor truly begins to spread might be a blessing."

"True," Robin chuckled. "You will see to the arrangements?"

"Yes, My Lord. Now, about who will act as your personal valet-"

"Slade will. He knows the basics at least," the prince decided quickly.

"As you wish, sir, I'll only send room servants and kitchen staff with you, then."

"That's fine. And can you pack my chess set? Good. Actually… I have an errand of sorts to the Captain of the Guards, so I will arrange the security issue with him. One less thing for you to do. I'll make sure he'll report to you."

"Very well, Sir," Alfred bowed and excused himself.

Slade knew an opportunity when he heard one. If he, somehow, could make the prince leave without him that would give him plenty of time to make all the arrangements he needed… and he knew just the way.

"Master, may I have a word?"

"Yes?" Robin stopped and looked expectantly up at him.

Slade made a show of looking around before he spoke. "Master, this might be the perfect opportunity for me to find out the last clues to your identity. If you leave me behind, you could say it's a further punishment, perhaps, then I'll have plenty of time to befriend those guards and find out what they know."

The prince gave him a grin and, to the man's relief, nodded. Then, however, he began to speak. "I thought the same thing and that's why we are going to see the captain now, because of _course_ you're coming with me!"

The man stopped himself from muttering under his breath as he followed the boy in search of the head of the guards. Wasting a whole week somewhere else when he hadn't finished plotting out the best routes into, and out of, the castle… all he could hope for was that the boy would compensate him somehow… but not even the thoughts of _how _could really make up for his spoiled plans.

"Captain Sinclair!" Robin eventually called out when he spotted the man.

…_Great, he could have mentioned that one of them is the bloody captain now…_ Slade thought sullenly to himself. He just wasn't in a good mood.

"Your Highness!" the graying man bowed deeply.

"It's good to see you, Captain," the prince smiled. Slade noticed that it wasn't his real, open, smile though; this was his 'official' one. "May I have a word?"

"Certainly, My Lord," the captain nodded. "How can I be of service?"

"Well, as you know my birthday is coming up, and things have been a bit… busy. I'm sure you will have your hands full too, soon, when the soldiers who are going to act as guards arrive?"

"Yes, training them will be a chore, and they are due in less than three weeks now," the man nodded.

"I'm confident you will handle it perfectly, you've never let my father or me down," the prince said seriously. "And soon there might be an addition to our family. Even though it's far from official yet, I feel I can tell you, in confidence, that I might soon be engaged."

"Congratulations, My Lord! That surely is great news!" Sinclair smiled and looked like he meant it.

"Thank you. But now to my errand… you see, turning eighteen, getting married… all the festivities and duties… sometimes a man just needs to get away, you know?"

"He sure does, My Lord," the man nodded, clearly not quite sure what the prince wanted.

"Well, I'm planning a sudden little getaway. A trip to the hunting lodge for a week. We're leaving tomorrow, and I know this is a big favor to ask but…" Robin looked down at the ground for a moment, like he really was embarrassed to ask. Slade studied the prince and knew it was an act. A good one. He found himself impressed with the boy once more, to the point where he all but forgot his irritation. Robin raised his eyes again, and now he was looking somewhat vulnerable. "Captain Sinclair, you and the boys… Bailey… Conrad… McCormack, you've been there all my life. Now when I'm about to become an adult… would you do me the honors of escorting me on this trip? I'm fully aware that you have a lot of others duties, Captain, and I'm not asking _you_ to spend the whole week, but maybe for the trip there?"

"It would be my honor. I, as you said, might not be able to stay the full week, I would have to ask the King, but the others certainly can."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me. And I promise that I won't ask any more favors until I ask you to be the honor guard at my wedding."

This got another deep bow and mumbled thanks, and, after asking the man to make the plans with Alfred, the prince bid farewell and left.

"Very impressive, Master," Slade said.

"Thank you. See? Now we'll be all but alone with them for _days_. Do what you have to; get them drunk or whatever, but find out. I want to know before my birthday."

"Yes, Master, I'll certainly try my best," the man promised. He didn't think 'do what you have to' meant the same thing in his world as the prince's, however, so he better play nice.

The prince seemed reluctant to let Slade out of his sight but in the end sent him to the kitchen to have dinner because he had been invited to eat with his friends. Robin excused himself early from that group, though, and headed back to his rooms to read. Slade was already back when he got there, which made the young man feel better.

"Your servants have been here and packed frantically, Master. I think we are set to leave tomorrow morning."

"That is good to hear," the prince smiled. "Now, I need to clean up a bit... how is your back?"

"Almost as good as new," Slade said. His clothes had chafed against his skin all day, but that kind of pain was manageable.

"Well, good," the young man all but leered. "Then you can help me…"

Slade made sure to really tire out the boy, and by midnight the prince had been sleeping soundly for hours. The man, who had pretended to go to sleep as well, dressed quietly and left the rooms for his meeting with Wintergreen.

One thing that he had noticed was that the prince didn't have any guards right outside his door; instead they were placed at the beginning of the long corridor leading to this part of the castle. Slade didn't think being seen would really be any problem but, of course, if word came back to the prince, his trust in the man might shatter once more. Slade, therefore, took another route. The outside one. The building's stonework were made for climbing, and the man had grown up in the mountains where a simple stroll might mean having to traverse a sheer cliff face. He landed quietly in the shadows, and, laughable easily, made his way to the stables.

Everything was dark and quiet here as he pushed the bar keeping the door locked to the side.

"My Lord," Wintergreen greeted him. "Nice place you made me wait at," he muttered, gesturing at the piles of manure.

"A very _convenient _place, I'll say. If someone should happen to forget to lock the door…"

"So is this where we'll get in?"

"It's a possibility, at least. I'm still working on that. One thing, though… I would like you to be the one to deliver the declaration."

"Fuck you." The other man's voice was so even and so resolute that Slade couldn't help but burst out in a short laugh.

"Should I take that as a no?"

"Hell yes, you should. The messenger with the declaration is immune, no matter what happens, and he's not allowed to fight."

"Exactly." The declaration was something that had to be officially presented for an invasion of this kind to be legal, and was a version of a declaration of war. It consisted of documents and a spoken statement and the messenger had to be taken to the monarch, or someone of similar rank, immediately to deliver his message. The attack itself could only come after that, but that didn't mean they couldn't already be in place.

"I know that you're trying to protect me, but that's an insult. Rowan hurt his hand in the smithy, he's going to do it."

"Fine. Did he lose any fingers?"

"No, he'll be fine, but it will take a few weeks at least… and we'll be doing this before then, won't we?"

"Yes. The prince has a birthday in little less than two months. The extra guards will arrive in three weeks, and guests as well. The castle will be crowded. We'll have to do it before then."

"Good to know, I'll tell the men, they are getting a bit restless. But… speaking about healing…?"

"You already know, don't you?" Slade growled.

"So it's true? You got whipped, Sir?"

"Yes."

"For what?"

"Just some harmless flirting…"

"Well, isn't that what you are _here _for, My Lord?" Wintergreen ginned.

"With a kitchen maid."

"Idiot."

"What happened to 'My Lord'?" Slade smirked.

"You get a title when you deserve it," the older man snorted, and yes, that's how it usually was. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, pretty much. He did it because he wanted to keep me."

"Awww!"

"Please don't," Slade grumbled. "To make things worse we are leaving tomorrow."

"What? Where?"

"A hunting lodge, and I don't even know where it is. I would order you to get one of the men to follow us, but I don't really think it's necessary. We'll be gone a whole week, though, and unfortunately I couldn't get the prince to leave me behind."

"Of course not. He'd miss snuggling up to his pet at night," the wizened warrior smirked.

Slade just muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Wintergreen asked innocently.

Slade sighed. He knew the man would get it out of him eventually, even if it was years from now when they were drunk… and it would be as bad then as now.

"I'm not allowed to sleep in his bed…" he therefore muttered a bit louder.

When his friend had stopped laughing, he straightened up.

"Well −heh− I guess you're really looking forward to slitting his throat, then?" he asked. Slade didn't think he gave anything away, but Wintergreen's eyes narrowed, and then he sighed. "You're not, are you? You're actually warming up to him? Besides his perfect ass, that is?"

"The prince… has his moments. But don't worry, my eye is on the prize. I might have wanted to do it slowly in the beginning, though, and the only thing that has changed is that I'm now thinking that he should have a quick death. As painless as possible."

"You really _do_ like him then," Wintergreen said dryly. "But good, because to pull out now… it would not look good. Your men might even revolt."

"And you?"

"I'll stand by you, of course. But you'll never hear the end of it. And no, you can't bring the prince home."

"Hmmm… he would make a lovely consolation prize…" the man smirked.

"Gotham is worth more, though."

"Of course. I'm not _that _selfish," Slade snorted. "But a man can dream of having the cake and eating it too, can't he?"

"Of course, as long as he takes over kingdoms as he does," Wintergreen grinned. "And speaking about handling kingdoms, we've had word from Grant and Joseph, everything is fine. Some highway men have stirred up a bit of trouble, but it's under control now."

"That's my boys," Slade grinned proudly. "Send them word back that it won't be too long now… unless the messenger already left?"

"No she's waiting until I could speak to you, so I'm guessing she's leaving tomorrow."

"Good, give her a fresh horse if needed, and some gold for inspiration. I want word to travel as quickly as possible, after all. In fact, add a message for Grant to arrange for two messengers to be deposited in even intervals along the whole route back; that way they can take over messages from each other and we'll have rested riders and horses the whole way. That will have news travel to Blüdhaven in less than half the time. He knows how to do it, as we planned for it… I see no reason why we shouldn't put it in use now than after the invasion, though…"

"Will do, Sir," the man bowed.

They bid farewell not long afterwards, and Slade took the same route back. The prince kept sleeping soundly as the man undressed and slipped into his narrow bed once more, closing his eye to rest before the long ride in the morning.

* * *

When the prince was woken up very early the next day Robin wanted to send his valet away. He was tired, and a bit sore and stiff after the sword training as well, so he was very reluctant to awaken until he remembered_ why_ he had been disturbed; the trip! He stretched and yawned with a smile, meeting the eye of his slave. The prince's smile widened for a moment before he looked away and blushed a little. The man had really outdone himself last night. Twice! Robin hadn't known it could happen more than once. He wouldn't be so quick to send the man from his bed from now on, that was for sure.

"Two servants have already left, My Lord," Alfred informed him as the man helped him to get dressed. "They will arrive in time to air the place out a little, inform the gamekeeper of your arrival and have a meal ready for you when you get there. I have to prepare you, though; as the lodge has been unused since early this winter, it will take quite a bit of work to get comfortable…"

"I promise I'll be patient. Are the other servants departing with us?"

"Yes, but as they will be having a wagon with supplies, they will most likely fall behind and arrive later. Because you_ do_ plan on going on horseback, aren't you?"

"Of course! Coaches are for invalids," Robin grinned and Slade was bound to agree. Traveling here with the trade caravan had been slow and tedious, even more so as they had made a few stops on the way. A longer ride was welcome now, and he was sure his back could handle it just fine. He assumed that it would still sting for a few days, but it didn't really bother him now.

"Very well, Sir. I've made sure you have something to eat for the long ride, so don't forget about lunch."

"Alfred, I'm not a child," Robin sighed as he picked up his new sword, which he intended to wear on the trip. "Oh! I forgot! Slade, I'm sending you down to the kitchen for breakfast, could you hurry and then go fetch our training swords and gear as well and meet us at the stables?" It was an order phrased as a question, and Slade, who had gotten dressed while the prince had, bowed and left. He still wasn't happy about having to leave, but he couldn't help but look forward to the ride itself, after feeling a bit cooped up at the castle.

This was just the second time he was let out of the young man's sights after his 'mistake', at least as far as the prince knew, so Slade kept his head down and although being friendly, tried very hard not to smile at anyone in a specific way. He spotted Cassidy from the corner of his eye, but turned away pretending he hadn't, for safety's sake. He hurried up and had to wait for the prince for almost twenty minutes, while the rest of the traveling party converged by the stables as well. Slade made use of the time by introducing himself to the guards and the servants he didn't know. They were all male, and now Slade _knew_ it couldn't be a coincidence. The guards, all of them older than he was and probably quite useless in a fight, were a bit reserved. There were, after all, senior officers, closely tied to the king, and they clearly didn't think it was appropriate for them to socialize with a bedroom slave. Still, Slade was a former soldier and carried himself in a way that made that easy to spot, so they weren't obvious about their reservations. Maybe they had also heard that he was the prince's sword instructor and therefore didn't spend _all_ his time in the boy's bed.

When the prince arrived the sun had just begin to rise. He was met by the Stable Master himself, who held Dax for him as the prince got into the saddle.

"Good news, My Lord; the mare began kicking the black brute away yesterday so, it's only a guess so far, but I think it has taken. We'll send the horse back today."

"Ah, I wish I could take him to the lodge… sorry, boy," Robin grinned as he patted his own horse's neck, "but it's too late to ask. Oh well, give Trader Wintergreen my thanks, will you? Alfred?" Robin looked around for the servant who had followed him down to see him off. "Ah, there you are. Could you have a gift sent to the trader, please? Nothing that would insult him as I know the loan of Slayer was a favor, but maybe a couple of nice bottles of wine or spirits?"

"I will arrange that, My Lord. Have a good trip now," the old man smiled.

"Oh, I'm sure we will," the prince smiled back.

They took the back gate and rode into the country from the coast. Slade had been given the gray mare again, Fog, and couldn't really find any fault in the horse, or breed, for that matter. Yes, she was smaller than he was used to, but she moved well, and had a good temper.

After a mile Robin turned around in the saddle and then stopped his horse, gesturing for Slade to take a look. They had been going slightly uphill this whole time, and now they could see the city of Gotham spread out below them, with the vast sea as a backdrop.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Robin asked.

"It is, Master," Slade agreed.

"Did you know that Gotham has the biggest natural harbor known to man?" Robin said. "It's one of the aspects that has made this a rich country."

… _and valuable…_ Slade thought to himself, because, yes, the port of its capital was one of the main reasons he had his eye on this kingdom. He didn't say that, though, of course.

"Have you ever sailed, Master?" he asked instead.

"Yes, a few times when I was young," the boy said, sounding like he was an old man already. "I was taught the basics of sea traveling, though it didn't really agree with me. You?"

"No, I've only been on a rowboat I'm afraid," Slade smiled. The biggest body of water in the mountains was a lake which was only about half the size of the city below them. There were streams though, and plenty of fish, but no real need for big ships.

"Well, maybe one day…" the prince shrugged and urged his horse on.

They took it slowly, as there was no point in tiring the horses out by galloping all the way. Two guards rode in front of the prince and Slade, and two with the servants, but eventually the servants began to lag behind due to the cart's slower pace. As the front guards kept a respectful distance while still being close enough in case anything might happen, Slade and the prince found themselves riding on their own. That made the boy relax a little bit and behave more as if they were in private, which Slade preferred.

"Master, the lodge we are going to… is it the same one as…?" he asked quietly.

"Where my father was before he brought me back? Yes. I was hoping that would jog the guard's memory." Robin answered in the same tone. "I had Alfred pack quite a lot of spirits… after all, people will need to keep warm, right?" he grinned.

"The warmer the better," Slade smirked back. "And speaking about keeping warm… are you looking forward to meeting your future wife, Master?"

"Well… I guess that if she likes horses, she might not be boring," the prince shrugged.

"You almost sound like you don't _want _to get married," Slade pointed out with a chuckle.

"I'm not sure I do," the prince answered darkly.

"Then what _do_ you want, Master?" the man asked.

Robin looked over at him, his eyes a bit wide before he blinked. "What_ I_ want?" He then chuckled darkly. "Oh, Slade, that doesn't matter in the least. We're not so different you and I; none of us are free. I have to get married and produce an heir. I have to dedicate myself to this country. It's my fate. There's no use in dreaming of other things… I used to hope father would marry and have more children, that way, maybe, I could pass the title of Crown Prince to one of them, but… that doesn't seem to be happening."

"Well, if you don't want to get married, can't you just adopt like the King did, Sir?" Slade asked curiously.

"Well… I… I _could_, I guess…" the prince said thoughtfully, but then shook his head. "No. There are enough voices in the court not happy that I'm not of the same bloodline as the King. If I was to adopt a child as well… no, I wouldn't want to put him through that. It's pure luck that the King and I share similar looks. No, I'm afraid it's marriage for me, but, after all, you'll be there, at least," he added, smiling fondly at his slave.

"That I will," Slade promised. "To the end."

The man got a chance to prove himself a few hours later when they stopped for lunch. The prince had further relaxed by now and the guards had noticed this as well, which led to their behavior lightening up a bit.

"Slade, take out the food from the saddlebags, I'm just going to take Dax and Fog to a creek over there to let them drink," he said, obviously having stopped in this area before. Slade just nodded, used to the fact that the prince, who rarely even brushed his own hair, still tended to his horses. Well, it wasn't like he mucked out the stables or did any such chores, but he still did more than the man would have expected. Even the guards seemed surprised and Slade had to remind himself that these men usually were stationed at the castle and were closer to the king than the prince, so they probably didn't know the young man very well.

The sound of a horse neighing nervously and then a shout had Slade drop the saddlebags and run towards the place among the trees where the prince had disappeared. He was almost knocked over by Fog running away and then he saw the prince trying to heave himself up into the saddle of his own galloping palomino. The boy lost his grip, however, and, rolling on the ground, landed at Slade's feet.

A blink of an eye later the thing that had spooked the horses burst from the shrubs, hurtling towards them, and Slade swore. It was a wild boar, a huge one at that, and it was not a happy pig. The man pulled the prince to his feet.

"I'm borrowing this," he said as he yanked the prince's sword from its scabbard. "Run!" he had time to add as he pushed the young man behind himself and braced against the attack. The pig was a male, charging with his head lowered and large tusks gleaming. The man knew that the boar would, when it got close enough, thrust that head up, trying to gut its enemy. Slade, however, was ready and at the last moment leaped to the side and thrust the sword into the thick-skinned animal's neck. It wasn't a killing wound but it slowed the animal down enough for the man to get a second chance, and that was all he needed.

With a close to human cry the pig went down long enough for Slade to completely slit its throat and, only then, as the animal kicked in the throes of death, did the man feel sure enough to take his eye off it. He looked up and the first thing he saw, standing rooted to the ground where he had left him, was the prince.

"Didn't I tell you to run?" Slade asked dryly.

Before the young man could come up with a reply, the guards reached them.

"Your Highness, are you unharmed?" one of them asked, as the others, uselessly, made sure the wild boar was out of commission.

"It's dead," Slade snorted. "You two, help me hang it. If we bleed it now, the meat will be better."

"It's a male, though, I've heard you can't eat those," one man, McCormack, said.

"I wouldn't in autumn, but in spring it should be fine," Slade answered, knowing that the man was talking about the 'boar taint' male pigs could have. It was usually worse in the mating season, but you never knew until you were actually handling the meat. Still, if it was fine, he was not going to let it go to waste.

The guards, maybe acting on instinct, simply obeyed him and after hanging the pig from a thick branch and washing up in the creek it was time for the packed lunch. The horses had already been caught, not having run that far when they noticed that they weren't followed, and had then been watered a bit further down.

Slade was thinking the event over as he ate. Maybe he should have let the beast gore the prince. It would have been so easy not to run as fast as he had, or pretend to have been frightened and thrown himself out of the way… or maybe just miss when the animal had attacked. No one could blame him; it had been a huge wild boar, after all, and those things killed more people than bears and wolves put together. If the prince had died like that it would be deemed an accident. Sure, he couldn't be completely sure that he would be welcome back to the castle, but he _was_ the prince's possession, after all… the matter of the ownership had to be decided, and he doubted that would be on the top of the list, which might give him the little bit of extra time he needed. Also, letting the animal do it would be... easier. Slade snorted in disgust at himself at that thought. True, he had never_ reveled _in killing other people, like some did. Those who _enjoyed _killing, however, were all insane and the man didn't want to belong to that group. No, he didn't_ like_ slaying, but it sometimes had to be done. And he had learned early that it was better to kill on the battlefield than be merciful and only wound, as the enemy might not return the favor. Killing wasn't _difficult_ for him, not when it had a purpose, and every deadly strike he had ever dealt had had that… and so would the one that would end the prince's life in a few short weeks. But, again… the boar could have done the job for him.

Maybe it was for the best, though, the man concluded in the end. The preparation for a royal funeral would probably bring at least as many people to the castle as a birthday, and they would start as soon as word reached the capital. No, better to have a bit more control, then, by keeping the boy alive… therefore, he had made the right decision.

Through all of this the prince had remained very quiet and, Slade noticed happily, hadn't made a single move towards putting his leash back on.

"More water, Master?" Slade asked, offering a skin to the young man, who seemed to be deep in thought as he didn't notice at first.

"What? Oh. Yes," he then said. "Slade?"

"Yes, Master?"

"You did very well."

The King of Blüdhaven chuckled. 'Very well' indeed…

_To Be Continued…._

* * *

A/N: *cough* the names of most horses in this story are actually the names I've used for horses in my Sims 3 game… so liking to name them after seasons/weather? All me, I'm afraid.. ;)


	10. Good People Get Cheated

A/N: thank you to beta **Euphoric Leo**!I edited this with one of the worst headaches I've ever had, however, and **Euphoric Leo **and I don't really have the same approach to punctuation… ;) I KNOW my punctuation is off sometimes, and when I see that it's wrong I make the correction BUT, to me, punctuation is one of the things that is largely an INDIVIDUAL style.

Also, as I've had different betas for almost all chapters, I've noticed that a lot of it IS personal taste. Some LOVE semicolons, some HATE them. Some love dashes, which I try to avoid as much as possible, and so on… and it doesn't matter if the persons first language is English or not, or if she's really studied grammar or not, it's all different… In the end I have to write it as I "hear" it, if that makes any sense.

Yes, when the sentence is punctuated in a way that it means something other than the author had intended, it's clearly wrong. Yes, there are certain rules. Sometimes, however, a sentence is MEANT to be read in a certain way and then I say "Screw the rules". ;) So I'm afraid you have to live with it, to a degree… it's just my voice.

So, all remaining mistakes are MINE. Some might even be "deliberate". ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 10: Good People Get Cheated, Just As Good Horses Get Ridden**

They arrived at the lodge at dusk. It had taken a bit longer than usual, as they had to gut the animal. Also, one of the guards had had to grudgingly give his horse up so the body could be tied to the saddle. The man then shared a horse with his comrade. The guards had objected, saying that _Slade's _horse should be the one to carry the beast as he was a mere slave. However, as the prince pointed out, Fog shied away from the smell after the fright. Besides, it was better if a horse carried two slender men than one slender and one of Slade's weight.

Still, they were now here. The term 'hunting lodge' could mean anything, really, from a simple timber cabin to a small keep, and the Wayne's lodge was on the bigger side. It was a two story building, the walls of the ground floor were made of stone and the upper floor from timber.

They entered the courtyard through a pair of impressive gates, bearing the royal crest in the shape of a 'W'. The structure surrounded the court on three sides; to the left were stables and the right wing seemed to be sleeping quarters. In front of them was the main entrance. The doors were now opening as the servants and a large man Slade didn't recognize, came out to meet them. There was smoke from the chimneys and many windows in the main wing were lit up, showing that the men who had been sent ahead had been keeping busy.

"Your Highness," the large man bowed deeply, joined by the servants who remained quiet.

"Gamekeeper Hayward, it's good to see you again," Robin nodded. "I trust the servants have informed you of our stay?"

"Indeed they have, My Lord, and it's a pleasure to see you as well. What are you looking to hunt, if I may ask, so I can make preparations?"

"This trip is mostly for relaxing, but when my friends arrive in a few days, I'm sure they would like an outing or two… what would you recommend, Gamekeeper? You know these forests better than I."

"Well, if you would like an adventure, My Lord, I wouldn't mind a wild boar hunt. Those critters have been spreading far and wide with the mild winter we had. They have completely ruined the gardens and fields of many farmers hereabouts."

"We ran into one of them ourselves on our way here," the prince chuckled and gestured to the carcass the soldiers had begun unloading in the background.

"My, that was a big one! How on earth…?"

"My slave, Slade, killed it with a sword," the young man let him know, his voice dripping with pride.

"A sword! Had I not heard it from you, Your Highness, I would never have believed it!" the gamekeeper said.

"Well, if the beasts have been causing trouble, I think we should cull the sounder a little," Robin smiled. Having the animal just suddenly burst through the shrubs and charge him had been scary but going out to actually _hunt _them only seemed exciting to him.

"I would be very grateful, My Lord. Just send word to my cabin when you have decided when you want to leave," he bowed and then bid farewell.

The food was simple but warm and Robin enjoyed it immensely. As it was only spring the long ride had chilled him and sitting here in the large dining hall, close to the fire, felt very nice. The only thing he found himself missing was… company. Slade and the guards ate in the kitchen, of course, so he was all alone in here apart from the trophies with their glass eyes staring down on him from the wall. The young man snorted to himself. He was_ used_ to being alone. He _had_ been. Always. Yes, there had been play dates arranged for him as a child with the same boys who were now his 'inner circle', but Robin had very quickly figured out that they were ordered to play with him, to never oppose him in any way and to always let him win at whatever games they played, just to not upset him and win his favor. The day he had overheard an adult, Duke Blackgate in fact, order his son to behave this way, was the day all his illusions of friendship were shattered. Since then, he had kept a distance.

Now, however, he missed someone. Slade. He wasn't stupid; he knew Slade was only there because the man belonged to him but somehow, that made it easier to be around him because the man wasn't trying to get favors, increase his power, or whatever was on the noblemen's agendas; he was there just for Robin and no one else. The prince realized that it might seem selfish, but he _liked_ that. He liked having someone who was all… _his_. Maybe, he pondered, that's what it would be like with a wife? Besides, the way the man kissed him… even though he was trained to please _anyone_, Robin made a small face as he thought about that. Slade wouldn't kiss just anyone like _that,_ would he?

One of the room servants came into the dining hall a little while later and offered to show the prince to his room.

"We have prepared the master suite for you, of course, Your Highness," he bowed. Robin had never stayed there before but, then again, he had never visited the lodge without the King.

"Thank you. I know the way, though, but Slade does not… where is he?"

"He's getting settled in the servant's quarters, My Lord. He will be up shortly to-"

"Slade sleeps in my rooms!" Robin snapped.

"I… I… I'm sorry. We didn't know that you wanted him to _here_ as well… there are no cots and-"

"Well, find something!" Robin heard that he sounded a bit harsh, but as he had just been thinking that he missed the man, sleeping alone in a strange room didn't appeal to him at all.

The two room servants did their best, but most of the single beds were built into the walls of the lodge, which the servant reported to the prince in his bedroom after dinner.

"We've found a bed in the attic, Sir, but it will take a lot of work to get down… we've brought some mattresses to put on the floor for tonight if that would…?"

"Yes, that's fine," Robin nodded, just as his slave entered. "Slade will give you a hand with the bed tomorrow, I'm sure he can survive on night on the floor."

"Certainly, Master," the man bowed.

"Good." Robin turned to the servants. "Bring two buckets of warm water up and then I will retire for the night," he ordered. By announcing his plans to go to bed, he left the men free to retire as well. Well, after whatever chores they might have left were done, of course.

A little bit later, Robin was shivering as Slade helped him clean up in the master bathroom. There was no water heater here; if he wanted a bath the water had to be warmed in the kitchen and carried up here bucket by bucket so a washcloth would have to do for tonight. The air was nippy as the lodge had been abandoned for several months and he longed for a long, hot bath. The fire the servants had lit in the bedroom was trying its best to warm the room, but everything seemed chilly and damp, including the towels, his nightshirt and the fresh bedclothes. He was still shivering as he slipped between the sheets, curling up to try to warm himself. He watched Slade, who had been washing up as well, walking around with a towel around his waist, the cold apparently not affecting him at all. The man arranged the lumpy, straw-filled mattresses and was preparing to go to bed himself when the prince got a better idea.

"Slade?"

"Yes, Master?"

The young man lifted his covers a bit and gave the man a grin. "Come here."

"Master?" the man blinked, not sure that he understood what the prince wanted.

"It's cold. Sleep in my bed. I need you to warm me."

"Of course, Master." The man grinned now as well and Robin let out a small content noise as he moments later, curled up to the large, warm body.

"Mmm… It's like having a fireplace in the bed," the boy hummed.

"True. I burn for you," the man joked, chuckling. The prince joined in for a moment and then drew back with a little hiss.

"Oh, your towel's wet."

"Let me fix that," the man said, reached in under the covers and pulled out the towel before throwing it over a chair close to the bed.

Robin felt his heart speed up a little as he realized that the man he was now curled up against was naked, but he said nothing. He had something else to think about.

Slade thought the young man had fallen asleep when he suddenly spoke.

"Slade?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Do you... do you have any friends?"

The man was somewhat surprised at the question and hesitated a moment before answering.

"Yes."

"You do? At the castle?" The prince didn't sound surprised as much as eager.

"No, Master. It takes a long time to build a real friendship. He's back in Blüdhaven."

"Is he a slave like you?"

"No, he's a soldier."

"What's his name?"

"Will." The man decided to keep as much to the truth as he could. That was a lesson he had learned as a child; if you are going to lie, make sure you remember the details. He_ did_ want to answer the boy's question's though, because he was curious about where they might lead.

"So… you've been friends for a long time?"

"Since I was slightly younger than you. He's ten years older and became pretty much my mentor as a soldier."

"He taught you how to fight?"

"Among many other things, yes," the man smiled down on the young man curled up next to him. The prince had a serious expression on his face.

"Oh."

"You sound sad, my prince…?" Slade said with a question in his voice.

"No, it's nothing… It's just.. you must miss your friend, right?"

"We're both adults. We know we can't be together all the time. I'm sure we'll see each other again one day," the man answered lightly.

"But I want you to stay with me!" the boy sounded like he was accusing someone, but it wasn't necessarily Slade.

"And I will, Master," the man tried to reassure him.

"Yes, I know, but... that's not what I meant…" the prince sighed. "So, how long has it been since you seen him?"

"About a year, My Lord."

"What if…" the young man hesitated, but then soldiered on. "What if he could come here to visit? I could invite him. Not officially, of course, but something could be arranged! When Trader Wintergreen brings the horses for me to choose from, maybe he can be a part of that caravan? It wouldn't be until next year, probably, but still…?"

Slade was a bit touched that a prince would go to so much trouble to make sure that his slave got to spend time with a friend. He knew there was something deeper behind this though, something more personal to the prince, or the young man would probably never have thought about the issue at all.

"You are a very generous master," Slade mumbled, pretending to be more moved than he was.

"I just… think that friends are probably important…" the young man said quietly.

"They are."

"Slade?"

"Yes?"

"If you weren't my slave… if you were a nobleman… do you think we could have been friends?"

"I would be honored to have a friend like you," the northern king said. Maybe he wasn't completely honest; he could see quite a few perks with being closer to the prince, but they didn't really involve friendship. Not the kind of friendship he had with Wintergreen, anyway; although he could be good company, the boy was too young. He was too…. soft. Still, it was what the prince needed and wanted to hear.

"… good…" the prince mumbled, sounding rather happy, and soon after, he was asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Robin ordered a picnic basket to be packed and then led Slade on a long and lazy ride through the woods. He left the guards behind, taking farewell of the captain first, who had to return back to his duties. Without him around, the prince hoped the other guards would relax a little bit and open up to Slade and he would do anything he could to help that along. He had ordered them to take care of the boar and to prepare large parts of it to be roasted for a feast that night. He also sent a servant to buy a barrel of apple cider from the gamekeeper. The prince remembered having furtively tasted a glass about a year ago when he had came here with his father for some bird hunting, and it had almost burned his throat. If anything was going to work on the guard's tongues, it was going to be that.

He planned to just enjoy the day, however, and it was easy as it was the warmest day of the year so far.

"Feels like summer," he commented, unbuttoning his jacket and shaking it off while still in the saddle.

"Sure does, Master. Would you mind if I take my jacket off as well?" Slade asked.

"Of course not, we're in the forest, there's no need to look proper," Robin grinned.

"Is there a need to _act_ proper because I see a meadow over there that looks inviting," the man smirked back.

"You stay on your horse, slave," the prince snorted in a mock haughty voice. "Besides, I have a much better place in mine. Follow me, let's get the horses moving a bit!" With that, he set off and the man followed suit.

After a half hour gallop, the man spotted a lake between the trees and soon they stopped by its shore, a small, sandy one surrounded by tall reeds.

"See? Perfect," the prince said smugly. "Just as I remembered it. We'll stop here. Unpack our lunch and I'll tie up the horses."

While the prince busied himself a bit further away making sure the horses could reach the water and graze on the meager greenery, Slade shook out a large blanket by the water's edge. He unpacked the food; cold slices of ham and chicken on pieces of bread, some sort of soft cake, apples and a bottle of wine, and then stretched. He was very warm from the ride and the sun beating down on them. He was thinking about asking the prince for permission to wash up when a naked young man ran past him into the lake. Slade just blinked dumbly for a second as he watched the prince dunk under the surface with a yelp because of the cold. Then the man smirked and kicked off his boots.

Robin smiled as he saw the large slave wade out to him, completely nude of course. He knew he had surprised the man with his behavior, but this was who he really was, only he had never showed this side to anyone else. It was only when he was alone, preferably far away from the castle, he let his façade drop. He felt free out here like he wanted to run away and explore the whole world, the cry for freedom rushing through his veins. And he could share that with Slade, he just knew he could.

"It's rather cold," Slade mentioned before submerging himself and swimming a few strokes.

"You don't act like it, though… you look like you're in a hot bath," the prince snorted, as his own teeth were starting to clatter and he hadn't been able to get in without making a few undignified noises.

"Trust me, I'm screaming like a little girl on the inside, Master," the man deadpanned.

The prince swam surprisingly well. Slade didn't know who had bothered teaching him, but as Gotham City was a coastal town, he supposed there had been opportunities for him to swim in the ocean during the summer. Slade himself was only a mediocre swimmer but because of his strength, he had no reason to fear deeper waters. He hadn't spent too much time in a lake since he became an adult, however, other than to wash.

Even though the boy seemed to enjoy himself, Slade decided enough was enough when his lips turned slightly blue.

"Time to get out of the water, Master," he told him.

Robin gave a small snort but waded out, giving the man a teasing smirk. "Did your old masters teach you how to give orders as well? I've noticed you're very good at it."

"The military taught me that bit," the man smirked back and then gave a bow that was barely more than mocking. "Forgive me."

"Of course." The prince chuckled and added; "I don't think there are many things you can do that I wouldn't forgive… though you came damn _close_…" he added darkly as he sat down on the blanket to let the sun and slight breeze dry his naked body as they didn't have any towels.

Slade didn't comment. He didn't want the boy to think about what had happened, after all. Instead, he sat down as well and served the boy some wine before handing him a piece of chicken on a slice of bread.

The boy took a big bite and after swallowing, continued his train of thought.

"I noticed when you made the guards help you with the boar. You just… took _over_, and they obeyed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Even the captain didn't object."

Slade pretended to be busy chewing his own food so he couldn't be required to answer. The boy had clearly picked up on his true personality as the adrenaline from killing the boar had made it come to the surface, making it almost impossible to hide. It was fortunate that he had the perfect excuse.

"Again, that was my military training, Master," he shrugged.

"Yes, but I thought you were just a foot soldier… but you had a rank, didn't you?"

"I did. I led a few men on a couple of smaller missions."

"How did you end up a slave? Did you fail? What happened?"

Slade had already decided on a back story even before he met the prince, so he didn't hesitate now.

"My family, that is my parents, had a debt to a wealthy and rather ruthless aristocrat. I had served a few years in the army when I heard about it and returned home. The aristocrat demanded that they work the debt off, but my parents were old and struggling with keeping their own small farmstead running; so, I took their place. It was only supposed to be for a year, but the aristocrat was killed in an accident before the time was up and the ruling was that I was still a slave, to be sold with the estate."

"But that's horrible! Like being caught and enslaved!" the boy gaped.

"You think all slaves are slaves of their own choice?" the man asked, though not accusingly.

"No… I mean, of course not, but… well, if you have to choose between starving and being a slave that's one thing, but you had a family after all… a farm!"

"Not long, unfortunately. My parents died from a fever at almost the same time as the aristocrat and it was decided that, as I hadn't worked a full year, the farm belonged to his estate and it was sold off as well."

"That must have been… you must have been so angry."

"Yes. But my next master changed all that. My first owner had made me work in his fields and building sites, only taking advantage of my strength. My next master saw that I had other… skills."

"Oh."

"Yes," the man smirked, reaching out to trace the boy's naked hip with his fingers. "And, as I told you before; it's been a good couple of years. I haven't minded in the slightest. I've had good masters and mistresses… although none of them so stunningly beautiful as you."

"…Slade…" the prince's voice was faint, but held a pleading note the man immediately responded to. The rest of the lunch was temporarily forgotten as the man leaned over the boy and kissed him. Slowly and tenderly at first, but as the prince's fingers fisted in his hair the kiss deepened as they both became more eager.

Slade didn't even know why he had started this. It wasn't like he couldn't control himself and really, these moments tended to make him more frustrated than satisfied, because he knew what he _couldn't_ have and he _wanted_ it. Probably _because _he couldn't have it. Wintergreen had pointed out that flaw in the man's character once or twice. Still, it was a nice, and not a boring way to spend the time while drying enough to put clothes on again and to be perfectly honest, the boy was quite irresistible.

"You are quite brazen today, Master," Slade grinned as he had let himself be pushed over on his back for once.

"I don't see why not," the prince grinned smugly.

"Well, are you brave enough for something new?"

"New? Like what?" Robin asked curiously, not looking at all as suspicious as he ought to be.

"Sucking my cock," Slade said, deciding that being straightforward was the way to go.

"Really?" The prince sat up a little. He was straddling one of the man's thighs as he had been more or less completely on top of him, kissing, a moment ago. Slade noticed that there weren't any revulsion in the boy's voice, just contemplation.

"Yes," the man insisted. "Well, if you dare?"

That got him a sharp look from the boy. "Don't try to goad me, slave, I'm not that gullible," the prince snorted. "I'll do it, though…" he added, running his hand down the man's abs. "But only because I'm curious… and because I know what it feels like, and I would _like_ to please you like that."

"Thank you, Master," the man said, not knowing if he felt touched or amused.

"Well, if I don't like it, I'm not doing it again," the prince shrugged as he scooted down a bit. He used his hands at first, just as the man had taught him, to coax the shaft into full hardness. He tasted the essence the head emitted gingerly, just with the tip of his tongue, smacking his lips to try to make up his mind about the flavor. It seemed to be somewhat agreeable as the prince then began licking the tip carefully before sucking it into his mouth.

Slade steeled himself from thrusting up into the boy's mouth, as he expected that getting choked wouldn't help the prince to 'like it' at all. In the mean while, Robin seemed to try to remember what had been done to him and used that knowledge very well.

When he neared the edge, Slade considered warning the young man, but the temptation to come in that hot little mouth was just too great and he closed his eye, digging his fingers into the loose sand under the blanket as the climax claimed him.

When he looked up again, he expected the young man to look displeased, but his expression was instead happy, maybe even a bit smug.

"I did that well, didn't I?" he asked.

"Very well, Master. For a beginner," Slade told him, not wanting the boy to stop trying any time soon.

"For a beginner?" That got a frown. "Fine. I guess you have more to teach me, then."

"I do, but I need a moment," the man smirked.

"Not for teaching through _demonstration_," the young man grinned and rolled over on his back.

Slade chuckled. He could only agree, after all, and then began said demonstration to the prince's delight.

Afterwards, they just lay side by side, enjoying the sun. Robin stretched lazily and then rolled over on his side, propping his head up on his hand.

"So… about tonight?"

"Yes, Master?" Slade mumbled, keeping his eye closed.

"There will be plenty to eat and drink, but this might be the last night before our company arrive and without them and the captain here, the guards are more likely to relax. I'm going to excuse myself, claiming that I have a headache, so they won't be concerned about me seeing their behavior. It's all up to you, though… and I won't blame you if you get drunk, just please make sure you do your best?"

"I will. I don't want you to have too high expectations, though… Depending on the nature of the secret, they might not talk under_ any_ circumstances…"

"Mmm… but you are _very_ good at persuasion…" the prince grinned.

"Let's test that theory," Slade smirked and pushed the prince down on his back.

They didn't return to the lodge until rather late in the afternoon. Robin remembered his promise of having Slade help the servants to carry the extra bed down from the attic and sent him to do so while he went to speak to one of the three remaining guards. He found Conrad in the kitchen, from where a mouthwatering scent of frying meat came.

"At ease," the prince said as the man straightened up and bowed. "How goes the preparations for tonight's feast?"

"Very well, Sir! We are all looking forwards to it."

"I can imagine. The food smells amazing," Robin nodded. "I'm afraid the sun got to me a bit today, however… I have a slight headache, so I'm going to retire just as soon as I've eaten."

"I'm so sorry, Your Highness, should we postpone the festivities?"

"I wouldn't hear of it! There are enough duties in the future. I _order _you to have as fun as you possibly can tonight!" Robin said with a grin. "And tell your comrades that I won't expect anyone to be on duty in the morning. The lodge is safe as it is and my friends will arrive tomorrow evening at the earliest. Just have a glass or two for me and I'll nurse my headache in bed."

"As you command, Sir," Conrad grinned back and bowed.

Robin then went on to tell the servants the same thing; that they were off duty until lunch the next day. He then had his dinner sent to his room and ate while Slade helped setting up for the feast. As it was still warm, they had decided to start out back where a large chunk of the wild boar was roasting on a spit. Slade returned to his master just to make sure that he had settled in, but Robin sent him out again with a wave and a laugh. He had some books to read and would be fine. His teachers had sent some material with him to revise if he had 'an opportunity' which probably meant that there would be a hearing when he got home. The prince didn't mind, however, he knew he had a lot to learn before it was time for him to take over the crown.

Even though he sometimes wished that he didn't have that responsibility, he _did_ want to rule the country one day. He had been taught that that was his right, not only his duty, and there _were _no other options. The second most powerful family, the Blackgates, were drooling for power and Robin would make sure to see himself crowned just to keep them away from it.

The only thing he wished for was that he would be able to find the politics and administration more interesting… he hoped that would come automatically with age and more understanding, but sometimes he feared that he would sit on the throne one day, an old man, bored out of his mind. What gave him hope was that the king had his own interests, his inventing, so Robin should be able to spend time with his; horses. He also hoped to travel more. How was he supposed to make decisions about mining when he had never seen a real mine? He also suspected that the 'facts' about what people from other countries were like weren't always quite… _accurate_ and he wanted to be able to form his own opinions.

There was a cheering noise outside and Robin heard "to the Prince!" being shouted. He snickered. He hoped they would drink a lot to him, especially if it meant _talking_ about him as well. Well. Not _too_ much. The prince knew he had told his slave to try anything to win the guard's trust, but he hoped that didn't include telling them embarrassing, personal things. No, he decided. The slave knew better than that. Right? Feeling slightly worried, Robin eventually crawled under the covers and fell asleep to the sounds of the men getting more and more drunk by the minute.

* * *

Only two people remained outside by the fire, trading war stories.

"Another one to the prince?" Slade suggested and refilled Bailey's goblet.

"For sure!" the elderly man slurred. "He's not cheap, I tell you… good stuff, this."

"Very," Slade chuckled. He had only drunk half as much as he had pretended to, but he could still feel it. "Good young man, the prince," he added for good measure.

"That he is, that he is…" the other man nodded and drained the cup. It was clear that he would soon be too drunk to make much sense, so Slade decided to push his luck a little. He had picked Bailey out because he seemed the most easy-going and friendly of the bunch and he didn't want to lose this chance.

"So… I've heard about his adoption…" Slade made sure to slur as well; he didn't want to sound like he was interrogating the guard after all.

"That he is…" the man said, but immediately seemed to be slightly more cautious.

"Yes… the King had a talk with him the other day… him turning eighteen and such… t'was time he found out, his majesty said…" Slade went on, like he was gossiping.

"The… the King… told him?" the guard said, his eyes wide.

"That he did… Can't tell you anything though… just that it… it started… right here…" the northern king faked a hiccup.

"Don't I know it.. I was… was with the king that night…" Bailey muttered.

"Never! You were? More Cider?"

"Yes, absh… abshel… Yes."

Slade refilled the cup yet again.

"Would sure like to hear all of it… I mean, I know the_ general_ story… Not that I heard it from the _King,_ mind you, he talked to the prince alone, but… you know… my Master told me most of it… But you were _there_… for the whole thing… that's… pretty remarkable…"

"We swore an oath we wouldn't share it," the man grunted, but looked a bit pleased, especially as Slade's stories had outshone his so far. The man picked up on that and continued.

"Yeah… but, you know… what have I seen? A few measly battles too small to even have a name… you were there when _history _was being written! _That_ would be a story worth tellin' …"

"It is… it is…" the man nodded.

"Well then? Since I already know…?" Slade prompted. This tactic would never have worked with a sober man or if he had had his comrades around him to ground him, but the man leaned back against the stump he had been sitting on −but long since fallen off− and drew a breath. Slade held his own as well.

"So… it must be twenty years ago now when he first heard about them…" the guard began.

"About who?" Slade asked.

The man peered drunkenly at him. "Well, _them_ of course! The Prince's parents; the _spies_."

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: Ta-da! Well, sooooo many things will happen next week, just you wait… Things are starting to get rolling, though… good? Bad? I don't think this is a very fast-paced story an it's not SUPPOSED to be, but of course there will be chapters when more happenes than others, but next week's is a bit crazy… Um… sorry to make this A/N into a cliffhanger thing… ;)


	11. There Is More To Being a Knight

A/N: thank you to beta **Yaoigurl12 **who helped me out this time! I will shut up now, because I know many of you have been waiting for this chapter… ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 11: There Is More To Being a Knight Than a Horse, Sword and Lance**

_From the last chapter:_

_"So… it must be twenty years ago now, when he first heard about them…" the guard began._

_"About who?" Slade asked._

_The man peered drunkenly at him. "Well, _them_ of course! The Prince's parents; the spies." _

"Ah, of course," the man nodded. Spies. They weren't common in Blüdhaven simply because it was a rather closed county, guarding its secrets carefully, and foreigners stuck out like a sore thumb. Whenever they were found they were sent back to whoever had employed them. In pieces. You _couldn't_ let a spy live, because there was just no absolute sure way to find out what he or she knew.

"T'all started when some of the King's shke… schket… _drawings_ just… just went missing… A littl' later and you know wha'?"

"What?" Slade asked obligingly.

"Wha' was on them… a new kinda plow… was made in Metro'pliss…" The drunk man spoke slowly and his words were a little slurred, but he seemed intent on remembering the details.

"His Majesty couldn't have been pleased about that… must have been quite a profit to lose," Slade nodded understandingly.

"You know it…" the guard nodded. "So then he start- started _hunting _spies… we caught a few! We did do that… yes we did… we caught them… and everything calmed down... but then… you know what happened?" This time the drunken guard didn't wait for Slade to reply before he continued. "Captain Sin-Sinclair –well, he wasn't a Captain back then, mind you− saw a man in the- the map room… that's in the libr'y… He didn't recognize him or anything… thought he looked suspi'us… so the Captain… the Captain asked to see the pass when… when the man _punched_ him in the face and r-ran off." The man took a small break to have another taste of the cider. "We didn't catch that one. Not then. The king went crazy again… all… _fixated_… he sent the spy's description all over the country, with rewards and ev'rything… Soon we start- started hearing news… people said they had seen him… all _over _the place… but many said he wasn't alone… that he was with this… this _woman_… and she'd been spo-spotted in places she… she shouldn't be in as well… you see? T'was_ two_ of them! Two spies…"

Slade was listening very closely now, a chill running down his back.

"What did they look like?" he asked.

"Like I would forget… Black hair, both of them… the woman was a southerner… pale skin… blue eyes… I say our prince takes- takes after her, mo'shtly. The fellow's eyes were grey… or brown… not sure… didn't get a good look… Quite a built chap, but not like a barrel… more… wiry… not that tall…"

"And then the King found them?"

"Yeah, only a matter of time… Spotted not that far from here, they were… heading north. An innkeeper sent a mess- messenger to the castle… the poor sod had to ride aaaaall the way back here. He-heh! We set off to inve- to take a look at once… by then they had caught on… the spies I mean… they had just left the inn. We sure went after them, though… tracked 'em… it had rained a little, there were fre-fresh tracks in the mud from their carriage… we crossed a sh- shallow river an' caught 'em on the road going up the hills of I-Iron Heights."

"And they were recognized?"

"Sure, Sinclair −I mean the Captain− recognch… knew the man straight away… he was driving their carriage… the King got him with one shot."

"From horseback and with the target on a moving carriage? Impressive."

"Well, the King knows his way 'round a crossbow, doesn't he?" the man shrugged and took another swig of the burning apple cider.

"His Majesty is a warrior, obviously," Slade went on. "I don't think many kings would hunt spies _personally_."

"Nah, they wouldn't… he was enra- enrag… very angry, though, ya' see… his inven-chons… means a lot'a him…" The man had begun to slur even worse and it was obvious to Slade that he would soon nod off.

"And then what happened? What about the woman?"

"Ah, the carriage…. out of control…fell over 'n the horses broke awa'… tumbled down a hillside a few times. I wa' put on watch, though, don't know wha' happened when they reached it. Just heard a yell… the 'thunk' of anoth'r arrow... His Maj'sty wa' walkin' away when his… his valet, Pennywo'th, called him back… and they… they found the 'ittle baby…"

"And the King decided to adopt the child? That's generous… not just leaving him there, or at an orphanage…"

"Well, he... he wasn't too happy about it… T'was his valet who wouldn't… wouldn't leave the boy… they passed me and I heard His maj'sty say some'ting, tho'…"

"What?" Slade asked when the man seemed too drowsy to continue.

The guard chuckled a little. "He… he said; 'well, you got your heir, then. Don't bother me with that matter again.'" the man quoted, sounding almost sober as he mimicked the monarch.

"What's that supposed to mean, you think?" Slade wanted to know.

"Pretty clear to me… the King don't like children, see? Never been interested in marryin'… not that he's one of them men-lovers… no offence…"

"None taken," Slade snorted.

"Just can't be bothered with people… wants to do what he wants to do when he wants to do it, you know?"

Slade untangled that sentence in his mind and then nodded.

"So… his valet had been nagging him about an heir I assume?"

"The whole _court_ had… and now he just _picked one up_… and he didn't want anyone snooping 'round the kid, not knowing who sent the spies… didn't wanna stir things up… just wanted them gone. Didn't even question them…"

"Sorry, I have to ask… if he's so afraid of spies, why isn't the castle better guarded? _No offence._"

The guard, luckily, was too drunk to _take _any. "Oh it was… it was… but then the King rebuilt his workrooms, didn't he? Moved… moved them deeeeeep down to the dung'ns… only one way in… the lock is said to be imposs'ble to pick, even kill-_killing_ people who try… and he always has the key on him. So… spies aren't that important if they can't steal anything, right? The library is guarded though… always… every permit carefully exam…exami… looked at…"

Slade knew that spies could _listen_ as well as steal, but he guessed the King was paranoid enough to make sure any secret meetings he might have wasn't overheard.

The northern king had been staring at the dying embers in the fire pit for a while but now looked over at the guard. The man's head had dropped down and he was snoring softly. No matter. He had found out everything he needed to, apart from the spies names. That, on the other hand, didn't matter either, because he already knew them. The Graysons. Slade turned his eye back to the embers and refilled his own cup to the brim, chugging down all of it and then refilling it once more.

* * *

Robin woke up to Slade pushing the door open a bit roughly. By that sound, the breathing and the way his feet seemed to drag a little on the floor, the prince could tell one thing; the man was drunk. He just closed his eyes and rolled over though, because after all, he had given his slave permission. Even so, he was surprised, as Slade seemed to have more restraint and character than that. On the other hand, _he_ shouldn't be the one to judge. He heard the man kick off his boots and then the rustle of his jacket hitting the floor.

The next moment the bed shook as the slave more or less dropped down into it next to the prince. Robin was about to sit up and tell the man off, after all he had his own proper bed now, but a big, heavy arm fell on top of him, pulling him close. The man, judging by the soft snoring, was already asleep. Pinned down under the covers the prince just sighed and closed his eyes again. He doubted he would be able to even wake the man _up_ now anyway, much less get him to walk across the room to his own cot.

* * *

Slade usually woke up quickly and was used to feeling alert at once… except when he had been drinking too much. Him overdoing it didn't happen that often, usually only at the different seasonal festivities in Blüdhaven, but when it did, he felt like… this.

He grunted. His head was heavy and his eye seemed filled with gravel and tar. He pushed himself into a sitting position and, as he lifted his eye, he spotted his bed across the room. That was a bit strange as he was _sitting _on… _Damn_. He couldn't remember how he had ended up in the prince's bed and he hoped the boy wasn't too pissed at him. He didn't seem to be in the room, though, and by the light coming through the window it was still early. Why had he gotten so drunk? He knew he had only pretended to be drunk at first and then, after Bailey had… Slade stood up when it all came back to him. At that moment the door opened and the prince entered, carrying a tray with enough breakfast for them both.

"Enjoy the reversed roles, for once, slave-" he began, but the man grabbed his arm.

"We need to go."

"Wait… what?"

"Bring the breakfast if you must, but come with me," Slade grunted.

"Where?" the prince asked, resisting a bit.

"Last night… I found out who your parents were," the man told him.

"What? Who?"

"That's just it; I can't tell you _here_. I don't think you want anyone to overhear this."

"No one's listening at the door, Slade, I think you can tell me," the boy snorted.

"Stop arguing and come!" the man growled and proceeded to drag the boy downstairs and out of the building.

No one was awake yet, that much was clear. There was even the sound of snoring from the dining room so someone hadn't found his way to a bed.

"This is unacceptable, Slade! I know I've been lenient with you lately, but have you _completely_ forgotten your place?" the prince demanded to know. Slade could hear anger, but also a bit of fear and worry in the young man's voice. He stopped and took a deep breath.

"No, Master, I have not. I'm afraid the news will upset you. I want you to have some time to compose yourself, preferably well away from others. Understood?" he said in a clipped tone.

"Your reasoning isn't exactly hard to follow," the prince snorted. "Fine. Let's go. But here." He handed the man the tray. "There _are_ limits…" he muttered and stalked off. Slade, whose headache hadn't exactly gotten better, lumbered after him.

They walked, as saddling the horses would have been too much trouble, for almost a mile before Slade decided that they were far enough for the prince to do whatever he would need to do in private; cry, have a tantrum, yell or however he would react.

"So tell me already!" Robin snapped as the man stopped.

"To start from the beginning; about twenty years ago your father the King experienced some trouble with spies."

"I know. Those corrupted, greedy, cowardly traitors…" Robin growled.

"Well, your father taught you _one_ thing at least…" Slade sighed. "You might want to sit down." He then began to tell the story as the guard had told it, albeit with less slurring. It wasn't easy as the prince right out refused to believe_ any_ of it at first. In the end the man threw his arms out.

"There's only one way to confirm this, apart from asking Alfred or your father straight out; we'll go to the site. They couldn't have bothered bringing the bodies back and maybe there are remains of the carriage as well… it's no more than a few hours ride away, judging by the man's story. We'd be back by tonight at the latest."

"Fine, let's go," the prince said stoically and stood up. "There won't be anything there!"

Slade hadn't really planned for this, but it was the only way to find out for him as well and he wanted to confirm his suspicions. He had known the Graysons, well, the _man_ mostly, as he was from Blüdhaven. They had even _worked_ for him. The map over the castle and city in the library, that had been by Slade's order, to be able to plan this very attack in the future. Unfortunately the mission had failed and Slade had gotten other things on his mind as his wife had died around that time. The Graysons hadn't officially worked for him again, but he received a few reports now and then and, as thanks, the couple knew that Blüdhaven was a safe place for them if they needed to hide. He remembered the pair as being full of energy and love for each other. They were both easygoing although Slade, of course, didn't let them too close, knowing their profession. They claimed that they would never work against Blüdhaven or the woman's home country of Hayley, but the northern king knew better than to trust spies. Still, what he remembered now, and he struggled even remembering their first names, were their smiles. And yes, those rare times the prince really smiled at him, he could see his parents in him… he wished he had paid more attention to the woman now but, and he had to chuckle dryly to himself when he realized this, he had been too enamored with his wife to even notice anyone else. If her eyes had really been as blue as the prince's, though, there would be no doubt that the guard's story was true.

As they came back to the lodge Slade left the saddling to the prince while he packed them some more food, as well as the uneaten breakfast. One of the kitchen hands was awake, if only just, so Slade told him that he and the prince was heading out for another lazy ride and not to expect them until evening this time. The last thing he did was to head to the small combined library and study, where there were several maps of the surrounding hunting grounds. After a bit of searching, he managed to find one that showed this whole part of the kingdom in detail. He grabbed it and headed outside, noting with a chuckle that the servant had fallen back to sleep over the kitchen table. He might be doing them all a favor by taking the prince off their hands for the day.

Robin didn't say much for the first part of the journey. Slade had handed him some water, bread and cheese to eat in the saddle for breakfast, but otherwise enjoyed the quiet and the soothing breeze against his face, which helped clear his mind and lessen the headache. He knew which direction to head in, so he waited until they let the horses take a breather and walk slowly for a while before he unfolded the map to take a look.

He had studied the geography of Gotham intently during the last few years, making plans not only for the invasion but for what needed to be done afterwards to protect a country that might be deemed weak after the takeover. He easily found their current location and traced the roads heading north. Buildings of importance were marked out and he found what might be the inn in question. Checking the date of the map, he nodded. It was only fifty years old, which was as good as new, as inns, especially at important crossroads as this one was located at, usually went back hundreds of years. There was a road leading up the Iron Heights, the steep hills which, much further north, merged with his own mountains. The road crossed a river as well before it rose so, so far, everything checked out. He told the prince this, but the boy merely grunted and hunched his shoulders.

Slade didn't blame him, really. He didn't know what was bothering the young man the most; that his parents had been spies which were people he had been taught to despise over all else, or that his adopted father had killed them and only saved him on a whim. Slade had told him everything, after all, apart from their names. He wasn't sure that was something the guard, or even the king, had known, at least he highly doubted it, as the Graysons wouldn't have used their real names when on a mission anyway. That meant he couldn't explain how he knew two spies and if the king found that out… well, he could come to a conclusion or two that might have Slade ending up in the dungeon for questioning. Or worse.

They didn't stop at the inn, instead they ate some of the food Slade had brought before they crossed the ford. The prince remained mostly quiet and now Slade wondered if he should have told him anything at all. If the prince fell apart at this point it might damage his plans. On the other hand, if he stayed sulking in his rooms for a week after they came back it might _aid_ them… depending on whether or not he would let Slade leave his side.

He decided to try to reassure the boy and strengthen their bond as they were about to leave again. he walked up to the young man and carefully, in case Robin would react badly, caressed his neck, turning him so they stood very close, facing each other.

"Whatever we find up there in those hills," Slade said, nodding towards the rises looming over them from across the river, "won't truly change anything."

"I don't know… might change _everything_…" Robin mumbled.

"Not to me," Slade said honestly and gave the boy a little smile. "And I'll be here for you. I am sorry my news hurt you, but… you couldn't have expected good news, could you?"

"I don't know… maybe it was childish, but… I rather hoped my mother would still be alive, somehow… just not able to care for me… and now I find out that I'm only alive because of Alfred… that _he_ would have left me to starve to death…" It was no question that by 'he' Robin meant the king. The young man took a deep breath and straightened his back. "Still, it might all be a tall tale. Something the guard made up to trick you."

"Might be," Slade nodded, knowing there was no use battling the stage of denial the prince obviously was in.

The ford was easily crossed, save from Dax shying slightly, obviously not used to being ridden through streaming water. As they rode higher, Slade kept a sharp eye out for any signs. The road itself was simple gravel and not really that wide or well made. It seemed to be a simple walk path that had just been widened over the years, but it wasn't a good place to bring a carriage and especially not at high speed. Maybe the Graysons didn't know this, as they had left in a hurry. Or perhaps, which was likely, they had felt forced to take this route against their will. Slade kept his eye on the edge of the road, looking for indications that something as heavy as a wagon had gone over. Here and there the side was slightly collapsed due to erosion, but, half way up, as the road curved, there were two grooves into the edge, wide enough apart to be from wheels. They weren't recent, as grass grew there, taken advantage of a spot in the road where it wouldn't be trampled down. Slade called the prince to a halt to have a closer look. He had stopped several times already on their way here, but he had a gut feeling this time that this might be it. The guard had said that it had been raining, so the road surface had probably been softer than now, maybe a little slippery. He had also said that the horses had been frightened and the carriage had been out of control. This was the kind of turn that might have the coach turn on its side, snapping the axle and letting the team pull themselves free, leaving the carriage to tumble down hill. Many things fit and it was worth to investigate more thoroughly.

The boy was not impressed, however, at least not after hesitantly having peeked over the edge of the road and down the slope.

"There's nothing here. Let's move on," he decided.

"The tracks seem right and the slope is just steep enough so a carriage might roll a few times without breaking apart completely… besides, there _wouldn't _be any traces; the King would make sure of that."

"So we're staying to look at something that's not there, _because _it's not there? Brilliant," the prince grumbled. Slade ignored him, though. He knew the boy didn't _want _to find anything; he didn't want to face the truth. It was understandable, although slightly annoying.

The man dismounted and carefully made his way down the slope. It was covered in rocks and the tough kind of grass only goats could stand, but it wasn't that steep. It didn't have to be, though, for a carriage to be smashed to bits. It was a wonder that Robin, and apparently his mother, had survived the fall at all. Slade guessed the baby had been tucked away in a traveling cot, but it was still something of a miracle.

A bit further down the ground dropped away suddenly, the edge mostly hidden by shrubbery. It was a dried out riverbed, maybe the original route of the river they had crossed below. The drop wasn't big; Slade could easily jump down, but the ground here was hidden from the road.

The man looked around and then tested the hardness of the soil with the tip of his boot. Not only was it tough to dig with a lot of rocks in it, it was also still frozen. This was the north side of the hill, still mostly in shadow, and it would take time before anyone in their right mind would even_ try_ to dig it. The prince had been found a few weeks later than it was now, but Slade doubted it was enough time for the earth to thaw here… and where would they had gotten the tools? No, to get rid of the bodies they either had to burn them, which might attract attention, or…

Slade thought he knew the answer even before he walked around a small bend and saw the very suspicious pile of rocks.

"Master! I might have found something!"

The man was surprised when the prince, after securing the horses to a couple of rocks, actually joined him.

"Is that…? But, no, the carriage isn't here! There should be a carr-"

When the prince fell silent Slade followed his line of vision and saw that the boy had discovered something he had missed: amongst the rocks and reeds covering the dried out riverbed lay a broken wagon wheel. It was gray with age, some of it covered with lichen, making it hard to spot. The prince paled a little and glanced over at the pile of rocks.

"But… that's… just one wheel…" he tried.

"There's no sign of burning, so unless there was a flash flood here one spring, someone probably discovered it and claimed the wood… they had little use of a broken wheel, though…" Slade said. Back in Blüdhaven people reused all that could be; stone and tiles from torn down buildings, beams, glass… nothing could go to waste. "Let me take a look. You can stay over here," he told the young man, who didn't look like he was about to come closer to the stone pile anyway.

Pretty much at once Slade could see that it was a grave; a few rocks on one side had fallen down and there was something that looked like remains of cloth there and, shining through under that; something pale white. He worked quickly, moving the rocks aside, uncovering more and more of the remains, which were now, eighteen years later, no more than bones. There were traces of black hair clinging to the skulls, which had broken under the weight of the stones. Some colors of their clothes could still be seen, but most of the wool had simply gone black and was so deteriorated that it was falling apart at the lightest touch.

It was clear that they had been buried quickly and not very carefully, but they still lay together, the man's arm over the woman as if he wanted to protect her, even in death. Now, Slade was no sap; he knew it probably just looked like that because the woman had been thrown down on the ground first and that they had been placed so close together to save time and effort to hide their bodies… Still, though, he preferred the other interpretation.

He looked for any signs that these truly where the Graysons and, knowing what to search for, he found them; their wedding rings. He actually remembered them because they were very thin and dull, with no stones, so they wouldn't catch the light and give away someone hiding in the shadows. He supposed it was good of the guards not to _plunder_ their victims, although they had probably been too rushed to do so. He glanced back at the prince who was facing away from the scene. Quickly Slade bent down and slid the rings from the bony fingers. He didn't quite know why; there was no way he could prove that these were the spies without giving himself away. He also, of course, didn't care about the value of the simple gold bands… he just felt, very strongly, that he should bring them with him. As he slipped the rings into his pocket he spotted something else glittering in the light and picked it up. It was a necklace with a pendant on it, both in silver, still looped around the woman's neck. He unclasped it to get it loose and straightened up, to give it a closer look.

"Did you find something?" the prince asked from behind.

"Yes, Master. I'm afraid… I've found your birth parents," Slade answered.

"Well… there's no proof, that-" the boy began, but the man came up to him and placed something in his hand.

Robin looked down on the necklace and, numbly turned the pendant over. When he saw what it was he gasped and felt his whole world spin for a moment. A small silver bird lay in his hand, its chest set with dark red garnets.

"A… a robin…" he whispered.

"Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?" Slade said gently.

"Do you… do you know what this means?" Robin asked, but continued instead of waiting for an answer. "I… I didn't realize…" his hand closed over the necklace in an almost crushing grip. "I… I DON'T EVEN HAVE A _NAME_!"

This was the first time the prince had shown any real emotion apart from denial and Slade waited impassively for the worst to be over.

"I don't have a _birthday_ and I don't have a _name_! Alfred named me, I'm sure of that now! Bruce wouldn't have bothered! My _valet _named me, after a _bird pendant_ around my _dead mother's neck_!"

"Maybe he was trying to give you something of your mother's?" Slade suggested calmly. "None of them could have known your real name, after all… Maybe this was Alfred's way to give you a clue to your past?"

"They… they are dead… no trial… just… _murdered_… by _him_… by my… my … _father_…" Robin was losing the battle against his tears now. It just hurt too much, more than anything ever had before. His dreams, his fantasies, about where he came from had been crushed yet again and this time it was forever. This time he _knew_. "They were… traitors… Why? Why did they do that? Simple _thieves_! And I was just a baby, didn't_ they _care about me either? Bruce should have just left me to die with them, then! If… if… no one… ever… wa-wanted… me…"

Slade caught the sobbing prince as the boy broke down and his knees gave out. The man let him cry for a little while, running his hands in soothing circles over his back. It worked with his sons when they were young and it seemed to work on the prince as well.

"Let me tell you something about spies, Master…" he began when he judged that the boy was able to listen again. "It's true people in power hate them, but they hate them out of _fear_. A single spy can bring a kingdom to its knees, but spies have also stopped more wars than any king ever has, saving thousands of lives."

"How?" the boy asked in a broken voice.

"Well, let's pretend I'm a king," Slade said.

That got a little chuckle from the prince. "Okay?" he agreed.

"Well, say I have my eye on the neighboring country. It looks small and weak so I meet with my generals, planning to invade. A spy from that country overhears it all, however, and rides to his king with the news. The king immediately strengthens his borders and me, seeing this, might be discouraged from attacking. Maybe the country still _is_ as weak as I thought, but it no longer looks it."

"That could really happen?" Robin wanted to know, disbelief evident in his voice.

"It can and it has. Probably more times than any of us will ever know. The truth is that your father probably uses spies as well, although as they work for _him, _he doesn't view them as such… If anything, spies even the playing field a little bit. They do a dangerous job for their kings or employers, they need to be very clever and very brave. The King hates them because they stole one of his inventions. He loves his inventions more than anything, as I'm afraid you know."

"Yes… I've figured that out now…" Robin muttered darkly, still clinging to the man's chest. The prince was thinking about his slave's words. Maybe spies _did _have a place in this world. Of course that didn't mean they had the right to do what they did, but he had been taught that they were should be hated, like their very souls were poisonous and reeking; that they could barely be considered humans.

"Your views on spies differs quite a lot from what I've been taught…" the prince eventually concluded.

"Well, who are you going to trust? Me or your father?" Slade asked him.

To Robin, at this point in time, the answer as very simple. "You… I trust _you_…"

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: If I used the term "Graysons" wrong somewhere, if it should have been "Garyson's" or "Graysons' ", please let me know, kay? Also, when I WROTE this, I felt quite sappy about it (and especially the next chapter) but when I reread it for editing I was completely fine and dry-eyed so maybe it's not as emotional as I thought… *lol* Or maybe it's just the wrong time of the month for emotions.. ;) Please tell me about your reaction to this, though!

Oh, and yes, you find out a LOT in this chapter and maybe it seems fast or sudden, but as things just takes place one after the other, I couldn't figure out how to pace it better… without writing a lot of descriptions about trees and weather… ;) Hope it doesn't feel too rushed, because it really wasn't…


	12. If Wishes Were Horses

A/N: First: thank you to this week's beta: **Higashisaru**! As usual any remaining mistakes are mine and you can't have them! *holds on to them tightly*

Secondly: there's going to be a review-prize for this story, but I'm setting the goal high and far off: reviewer number 500 will get a drabble from me. If reviewer number 500 is not logged in or doesn't WANT a drabble/won't answer the message for some time, the drabble goes to the next person. The story, however, will of course continue even if it never reaches 500, so not to worry about THAT… ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 12: If Wishes Were Horses, Beggars Would Ride **

After Robin had calmed down a bit more, Slade got him to sit and rest on the bank while he, carefully and with a lot more respect than the guards had shown, reburied the remains of the Graysons once more.

"It's done," he told the boy about half an hour later. The prince looked up, quite startled as he had been deep in thought. "Would you like to pay your respects, Master?" Slade added.

"I… I don't know…" Robin mumbled as he got to his feet, glancing over at the pile of stones almost fearfully.

"I'll give you a moment, My Lord. You don't have to say anything; you didn't_ know_ them, but if things had been different…"

"If my father hadn't murdered them, you mean? If they hadn't been criminals?"

"Life is full of 'ifs'," the man said philosophically. "Although your 'if's' might be bigger than most people's…"

The prince gave a short, dry chuckle. "Maybe so…" he sighed and slowly made his way over to the grave.

Slade did as he promised and climbed up the edge of the dry riverbed to let the boy have some time to himself. He checked on the horses and then looked over how much food they had left, as they wouldn't make it home until long after dinner was normally served. What he found was quite enough, though, if a bit dry and boring. Well, he had gone weeks without a warm meal and days without anything much at all sometimes. Besides, he doubted the prince would be in the mood to complain.

Robin thought the walk up to his parent's shared grave was the longest one he had ever taken, even though it was barely more than twenty steps. When he got there, however, it was, somehow, too soon. He hadn't figured out what he was going to say… if there _was _anything to say.

"Mother… Father…" he began, but it sounded so… impersonal. He snorted and let his head fall back as he drew a deep breath._ Impersonal_? Of _course _it was! These were strangers! Still… "Mom… dad… " He had never been allowed to call _him_ 'dad'. Too plebian. "Well, I'm… I'm okay. I survived. I'm… I'm a prince… I guess you knew that…? And who my adoptive father is?" The young man bit his lip. "I… I wanted to say that… that… I'm sorry. He… he taught me to hate people like you… but maybe you were good people? I don't know… I'm sorry for that too… for not knowing…" He took another breath, this one a bit ragged, as he wiped his cheek. "Does… does it make it better that I n-never l-loved him?" he then asked, almost desperately. "I tried! I_ wanted_ to! I looked up to him… he was the King… my _father_… but… but I understand now… because he didn't love me… and he never _could _love me… the offspring of people he despised… I always felt that he doesn't trust me… of course not… not with _my _blood. It's not right, though! I was just a baby! And… and… what he did to_ you_ wasn't right either…" He grew quiet and just stared blindly at the grave for a while. He then noticed something different about it; the stones hadn't been set like this when they got here. It even had an edge of smooth rocks around it now, making it clear to anyone that this was something _special_, something man-made. His parents were no longer thrown away, hidden and discarded. They were properly buried now; they had a real grave.

Flat stones covered the top of the pile and, on one of them, two pebbles lay. They were silky smooth, bluish gray ones and almost gleamed in the spring sun. Slade must have placed them there. Robin hadn't watched the man at all, having his back turned the whole time. There were lots of pebbles on the ground, however, smoothed by the water that once ran here and, as he didn't know what else to do, Robin began searching for some of his own. It took time. He bent down several times, picking and discarding one stone after the other. None of them seemed… _good _enough. Finally he found a black one with a band of white running through it and, next to it, lay, not a stone, but a glittering piece of smooth, green glass. The prince cleaned both items off on his shirt, making sure there wasn't any dust on them. With heavy feet he then made it back to the grave and placed the stone and the glass next to Slade's pebbles.

"I know it's not much…" he mumbled. "One day… one day, though, I'll make it up to you. I must leave now… I have to go back… I wish I didn't… Maybe I can visit you again… maybe after my birthday. I'm getting married soon… there's this girl… she and I both like horses… I think we might be happy together. Maybe I can tell her and bring her here one day? I don't know. I'm so glad Slade found you… I was so angry this morning… didn't want to believe…" He took yet another deep breath, trying to think of a last thing to say. "I… goodbye. I may not know you and I wish I knew your names… but I'll never forget you."

Embarrassingly he had a little trouble climbing back over the edge, as the sides reached almost to his neck. He managed however, without having to call his slave for help. Besides, occupying himself with climbing helped to ease the rawness of his emotions. That meant that he could face Slade somewhat collected again, not knowing that the redness of his eyes and the streaks on his dusty face told the man everything anyway.

"Are you ready, Master?" Slade asked solemnly.

"Yes." A breath later and the prince added; "Thank you."

"You're welcome, although I can't help but feel that this is my fault… that it might have been better if you had never found out."

"No. No, it's always better to know," the young man stated firmly. "It just doesn't always _feel _like it…" he then mumbled and grabbed his horse's reins.

"Let's ride back to the river and wash up there a little, Master," Slade suggested. "Maybe rest and have some food as well."

"Yes. Let's," the prince agreed.

The ride down was quicker than up, even though they didn't let the horses trot on the loose gravel. As they didn't stop now and again to investigate suspicious marks in the road, however, they made good time. The prince kept quiet, but it wasn't the sullen quietness from that morning. Slade saw how his posture, which was usually immaculate in the saddle, was now slumped. Even Dax seemed to notice that something was off with his rider and, as the young stallion that he was, tried a few tricks to see if he could get a reaction. The boy straightened up then and took control once more, but the man could see that it took a lot out of him; that he was beyond exhausted, if only emotionally. It was impressive to watch him do it, however, and once again Slade thought he glimpsed more strength in the young lad than he had expected to find there from the beginning.

When they came to the ford they followed the river upstream for just a little while for some privacy. The horses drank while Slade took off his boots and waded out into the shallow, but fast running and freezing water. The prince joined him as the man washed his face, neck and hands, following suit. Slade pulled off his coat for the prince to sit on and then, quietly, served him food and water from their packs before sinking down on the grass and starting eating himself.

"I don't want to go back," Robin said suddenly.

"It's understandable," Slade nodded. The prince_ had_ to go back, though. Without absolute proof that there wasn't an heir to the throne the invasion wouldn't be valid. It was probably a bad idea to try coaxing him into returning at this very point, however; the prince would almost certainly react badly to that. Slade had to wait for now and offer the support the boy needed to face his duties when he was ready. It was a grim feeling, however, to just have been burying his parents only to lead the boy to slaughter. Nothing could be done about that, though. Nothing at all.

"I'm going to renounce my title."

"Pardon?" Slade asked at the sudden announcement from the prince.

"I'm going to renounce my title as Crown Prince of Gotham," Robin repeated. "I've read about it in the history books. One first born son of the Wayne dynasty was struck blind by an illness. He let his younger brother have the title."

"You, however, _have _no younger brother, Master," Slade pointed out.

"No, but that's Bruce's problem," the prince smirked flippantly before his face darkened again. "I don't think there's anything in the laws stopping me from doing this, but we shall have to check when we get back to the city."

"We?" Slade blinked.

"Of course 'we'… unless you mind that your master would no longer be a prince?" the boy snorted.

Slade just shook his head, too stunned to answer. This might mean that he didn't have to… "Do you know how this process works, Master?" he asked.

"Certainly. I have studied the country's laws, after all, there are just some specifics I can't remember," the boy snorted. "First I have to address the court, proclaiming my intent. Then the Circle of Lords are summoned three times to make sure that my decision is true."

"How?" the man asked, curious about this custom.

"The first meeting is to make sure I'm not being pressured or blackmailed. The second to make sure I'm sound of mind and the last to see so I'm not possessed by any evil spirits," the prince explained.

"And do these meeting take long?" Slade wanted to know.

"I have no idea, but they are always set a month apart, just to make sure the man's resolve doesn't waver."

Slade felt the faint hope he had flee. That would mean at least three months of waiting, which was much too long. His men couldn't stay in Gotham City forever without raising suspicion, after all. No, he had to stick to his original plans, no matter how unfortunate they were.

"I see," he nodded. "Well, Master, if you don't mind, maybe we should find out all the details first, before you make your announcement?"

"Of course. And I have to be an adult before making a proclamation like that anyway, so nothing will happen until after my birthday."

"So you won't tell anyone else about these plans?"

"Only you, Slade." The prince grinned a little. "Besides, I have some planning of my own to do…"

"For what?" the man asked.

"For afterwards. I won't have my title anymore, or what belongs to that, like property and family heirlooms… I must find out what is in _my _name only… also I should make sure I have money. I might have to sell some of my horses, I can't bring them all with me anyway…"

Slade was surprised not by how serious the prince seemed about his decision but that he didn't seem to be making them out of anger; he seemed reasonable as he talked about the preparations needed.

"Where would you live and how would you support yourself?" Slade asked.

"I know _exactly_ how…" the boy actually grinned now. "If only I can get enough money, I'll send word to Trader Wintergreen that I don't want just _one_ Blüdhaven Warhorse, but at least _ten_. Two stallions and eight mares, unrelated to each other and of finest stock. I'll buy a farm and I'll raise these horses. I'll make sure to secure the rights to breed them outside of Blüdhaven… Imagine it, Slade; the greatest horse in the world and, unless you want to head out on a dangerous journey into the mountains, you can only buy one from me. I'll be able to charge _anything_! And I get to work with horses all the time!"

"It's good to see you so enthusiastic about your future for once, Master," Slade smiled. "You'll do very well for yourself."

"I plan to," the young man nodded. "I will need a lot of help, though. And friends. I should make some."

"You mean the young nobles?"

"Unfortunately, yes. They will probably be my first buyers, after all… I won't be as interesting to them when I'm not the heir to the throne anymore, of course, but still…"

"What about your marriage?"

"Oh… right… well, maybe she'll join me? Although she's probably more interested in becoming a princess and, one day, a queen… no matter, I won't become engaged before renouncing the title… and anyway, I'll have you. I'm afraid there will be some hard work ahead, though… not just fun."

"I'm at your service, Master. Besides, this means you won't be a member of the aristocracy anymore, doesn't it?"

"Yes? Why? _Oh_…" the boy blushed a little and Slade couldn't help leering. It really was a damn shame… still, somehow, there would be time… although, when he thought about it now, he doubted it. At first he had decided to more or less rape the boy… or get him drunk and tease him until he begged for release which was, essentially, the same thing, but now… The man didn't know if it was empathy or pity, but he thought the prince really had gone through enough… he shouldn't have to be tricked or forced to commit what this society thought of as a sin as well.

The prince coughed a little, feeling embarrassed about the man's innuendo. He decided to ignore it, however, and continued. "I know I have an obligation to the country, though… am I being childish, Slade? It's just that… after knowing what the King did, after understanding that he really doesn't... _care _for me, I feel… I don't feel bound by my royal duties anymore…"

"It's _very_ understandable, Master," Slade shrugged.

"Still… why let the _country _suffer when it's _one man_ I'm angry with? And again; why shoulder a burden that big as a _favor _to that man?"

"Take time to think things over, Master," the man said. "No one is forcing you to make a decision today."

"No… for _once_," the young man chuckled dryly. "Still, all my plans could fail if I'm exiled."

"Could that happen?"

"Yes … but I don't believe it will, especially as I will have a talk with the King before any decisions are made. He might be the ruler here, but there are still laws. Even spies get to at least face the accusations. The result would still be the same, but killing both of them with no hearing... if would not be favorable to him if people found out about that. Who knows, I might get an estate and a yearly allowance out of it as well if I play my cards right… and if not, if I'm exiled… We'll just go to Blüdhaven," he added with a grin that might mean he was joking.

"You seem very interested in my homeland," Slade chuckled.

"A country that breeds horses like Slayer and men like you…? _Hell _yes, I'm interested!" the prince grinned and then all but slapped a hand over his mouth when he realized that he had cursed. The boy then seemed to realize that no one would chastise him for it and looked a bit embarrassed for himself.

"Well," the man said, trying to keep his laughter down, "I'm flattered to be such an ambassador for my country, I must say. I fear taking you there, though, Master."

"Why? Is it really that dangerous?"

"That too… but mostly I'm afraid you'll see someone you like better and exchange me. Or worse; buy him too. I don't like to share."

The young man just chuckled and shook his head, before drawing a deep sigh. "Break's over. It's time to head back." That realization seemed to settle a weight on the prince's shoulders once more and he glanced back towards the hill one last time before climbing into the saddle. Slade followed, his thoughts darker now as well.

* * *

They arrived back at the lodge after dark, but were both happy to find that a stew had been left simmering over the embers in the kitchen and was still nice and hot to eat. Robin was relieved to find that his inner circle had not arrived, which meant they wouldn't be here until tomorrow night. That meant a little more space to breathe, which he really needed right now.

When they went to bed, after a quick wash in cold water, Robin considered inviting Slade to sleep with him again. _Just_ sleep, though; he was in no mood for anything else. He was afraid to get too used to it, however, and he had to remember that the man was his slave. It had been so easy in the beginning, but now, more and more, the line had blurred and the young prince wasn't sure if that was a good thing. It _felt_ good, but at court appearance was everything. He guessed that as long as he kept their familiarity behind closed doors it wouldn't hurt, but it was so easy to slip… Soon, though, within six months at the most, he might not be a member of the court anymore. The thought excited him but it was scary as well. Dreams and planning was one thing, but actually_ going through _with it…? And then there was the Blackgates… On the other hand, Bruce was nowhere near being too old to marry and father a child and that child would have time to grow up as well if the King died of old age… he would have to and he would, wouldn't he, rather than let the crown go to another dynasty? Robin hoped he would, because that was really the only thing that made him hesitate… What would happen if the King died without an heir wasn't decided by law; it was decided by power, which often led to violence and sometimes full out civil war. He didn't want that for Gotham. The subjects in his country needed to be safe, the kingdom unified and strong… that was something he had been taught but also _felt _in his heart. And if giving up the crown would harm the land… he just couldn't do it.

Troubled by these thoughts Robin fell into an uneasy sleep. Slade didn't fare much better. He kept seeing the boy's parents in his dreams, remembering bits and pieces of conversation but still their first names escaped him. He knew he had heard, or at least _read_ them, even though he had always used their last names when speaking to them, as was the custom. Somehow, their names were suddenly important… which made little sense to him as he wouldn't be able to tell the prince either way…

* * *

The next morning, after Slade had helped him dress and look somewhat presentable, the prince ordered breakfast to be served for him in the dining hall. Slade had his in the kitchen, where he met Bailey, who gave him a bit of a strange look. The guard waited until the servant had finished putting the prince's tray together and left before he cleared his throat and spoke.

"So… that was some party…" he began.

"At least you got to sleep it off, the prince had me up at dawn, wanting to go _riding_…" Slade grunted.

"Yeah… think I had a bit much… remember telling some crazy stories…" the man continued and now Slade caught on: Bailey was worried that he in fact had said too much.

"Hey, I don't care what you and your mates did to those sheep," he grinned.

"… not the story I was thinking about…" the guard muttered, blushing.

"Sorry, but I haven't had so much to drink in _years_… been kept on a short leash… I remember we were all sitting around the fire and then I woke up… in the prince's bed, no less…"

"In His Highness bed?"

"Yup. Must have been so drunk I crashed onto the first one I saw. Got quite a telling off in the morning… didn't help my headache…" Slade pretended to wince.

"So… you don't remember anything?"

"What, did I tell you something? I would really appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself. I won't say anything about the sheep!" the supposed slave said hurriedly in a lowered tone.

"No, no, just… well… it was quite a party…" the guard shrugged, looking relived.

"Bailey?" a voice called.

"In here, McCormack!" the guard replied.

"Up for some sparring?" the other guard asked as he appeared in the doorway. Bailey nodded and stood up. "Slade? Care to join us?"

"I'm sorry, I think my master needs me. Maybe another time," the man said, wondering what it would be like to spar against the older men, surprised they even bothered training at their age, especially considering that they were barely more than hall ornaments in the castle.

Slade joined Robin in the dining hall just as the servant was taking the dishes away.

"I want a bath today, before lunch as we're will most likely have company this evening. I assume their rooms are ready?"

"Yes, Your Highness, everything is ready. We'll start preparing your bath at once."

"Two baths, my slave will have one too," the prince let him know. "I assume there's another tub that can be brought into my bathroom? Good. Thank you. We'll most likely be in the courtyard until then."

"Yes, Sir," the servant bowed and hurried out to start the tedious task of heating and carrying water to fill the tubs.

Robin then turned to Slade and grinned. "Slade? Go get our swords."

There was no training hall at the hunting lodge, of course, so after getting the practice swords and protective gear they ended up in the courtyard as Robin had said. All three of the remaining guards were already there though, sparring.

"It seems I get you join you after all," Slade greeted them. The men looked up and straightened as they saw their prince.

"Your Highness!" Conrad said. "We'll let you have the yard to yourself or course."

"No, no, there's plenty of room, please continue," Robin said as he strapped his gear on. "Slade? Ready?"

"Yes, Master. Now… you're short. Here's how you are going to make that an advantage," the man said, thus beginning the lesson.

For the first few minutes as Slade was explaining the principles of what he wanted the young man to learn, the guards kept sparring. They used a mix of what Slade had come to think of as 'Aristocratic style' which was mostly useless, and something they must have been taught in the military, which was a crude, slaughter like style of chopping people up. Slade had faced many enemies who fought like that, but with no real skill you just had to hope that your opponent was slower or dumber than you. With _enough_ skill nothing like the opponent's wits, speed, strength or size mattered… or at least it mattered a whole lot_ less_.

He began leading Robin into the actual sparring session, slowly at first, but soon they were fighting full out as they usually did. The guards began to look over at them before stopping completely to just stare.

"My Lord, are you all right?!" Bailey yelled in shock as Robin took a hit to the thigh and stumbled.

"No, he's terrible at blocking his right side," Slade answered.

The prince merely shrugged off the pain and snorted. "Maybe my teacher is terrible for not teaching me?" he retorted.

"Here," Slade grinned as he realized why the boy was having trouble. "Your grip is slightly off." He stood behind the boy and readjusted his hand. "If you hold it like you did, you can't turn your wrist enough to block a strike from that angle."

"Yes, but it feels strange holding it like this," the prince objected. "I've been taught to hold it _properly_."

"Feel strange or die. You were taught to hold a weapon as deadly as a butter knife. This is the broadsword. Would you ride a young stallion the same way you would an old mare?"

"Sir that is really not an appropriate way to speak to your prince!" McCormack objected.

"He's my instructor when we train, he's not out of line," Robin said, gesturing for the men to calm down. "Fine, Slade, let's do it your way."

"Those are words I like to hear," the man smirked.

Even the servants had stopped to watch by now and Slade, noticing this, had a feeling the baths would be delayed if they kept it up. He soon had to focus on the fight, though, because _damn _did the boy pick up on things quickly. The man had to remind himself that Robin actually had _years_ of sword practice behind him, and even though most of it was for show and useless games, he was clever enough to take what he had been taught and use it, changing it to fit this new style. As his former knowledge merged with what Slade taught him, the man had to deal with sneaky moves he had never encountered before. Some failed, naturally, but the prince was also very quick on his feet and absolutely fearless. After a while, and since they had the perfect opportunity, the man felt it was time to test the boy's skills on someone else.

"As the fellows over there are here to practice as well, how about you fight one of them?" he asked the prince, gesturing to the guards.

"Getting tired, old man?" Robin smirked.

"If you had been anyone else, your bottom would get to taste the flat of my sword for that comment," the man smirked back. "Repeatedly."

The prince looked like he wanted to say something back, but a glance at the guards quieted him.

"Conrad, will you spar with me?" he asked instead.

"Of course, My Lord, but are you sure that-"

"He's sure, and if you hold back even a _little _you will have to fight _me_," Slade growled.

"Yes, Sir!" the guard said, almost snapping to attention. Slade could hear Robin snickering quietly at that.

It was awkward at first as none of them knew what to expect. Robin had only sparred with two people before and Conrad, despite Slade's warning, was very apprehensive about fighting the prince. In the end Robin got frustrated and aimed an obvious strike at the man's neck. On pure instinct the man blocked it and, as the practice swords really crashed together for the first time, they were both able to let go of their reservations.

Slade watched the fight with a sense of pride. Robin was winning, and he was winning _well_. The boy used everything he had learned and yes, Conrad had his age against him, but his experience should be able to make up for that. It didn't.

"That's ten for the Prince, I'd say that's a match!" McCormack called out, obviously having kept track of the strikes, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Well, you're up, McCormack," Conrad growled.

"I wouldn't mind," Robin smirked.

When it was all over, Robin had defeated them all, although it had been close with Bailey. On the other hand, the prince had been quite tired by then. Slade took over and more or less dismissed the guards after thanking them for their cooperation.

"Well, that was fun!" the prince grinned somewhat smugly as the older men were out of earshot.

"We're not done yet," Slade told him.

"We're not?" the boy looked almost desperate because he was clearly very tired, but he didn't outright refuse.

"No, now we're going to go through everything you did wrong."

"But I won!"

"You still made mistakes. Are you going to whine or are you going to listen?"

"… listen. But you're too bossy for your own good sometimes."

"As your teacher I'm allowed to be, remember Master?"

"Remember _and_ regretting," the prince snorted. "Fine. Chastise me."

And Slade did. He didn't forget to praise the young man as well, of course; no one responded well to just negative critique, but no one ever got better from just praise either.

As he was wrapping up, the servant in charge of filling the baths approached and told them that everything was ready for them. Robin, especially, felt long overdue for a soak and hurried to the point that he was practically undressing before they had reached his chambers.

"This is heaven…" Robin moaned a little later as he leaned his head back against the bathtub's rim. "Why can't people just live in tubs of hot water?"

Slade chuckled from his own bath. He enjoyed keeping clean as much as the next man, but he didn't know if he wanted to spend his whole life soaking.

"Would you like help with your hair, Master?" he asked, but the prince only made a low, content noise, sounding very much like he was enjoying himself on a much more personal level, and therefore creating a small stir in Slade's loins in reply.

As the water turned merely lukewarm, Slade rose.

"I smell lunch, Master. I think we need to finish up here before the country ends up with a royal prune."

The prince burst out in a small laugh but let the man wash his hair and then dry him off.

"Join me for lunch, Slade. The others might have arrived by dinner and I need to just talk for a while… about everything."

"Of course, Master," the man said solemnly. The prince hid it well, years of practice the man assumed, but now and then during the day the man had seen some tiny cracks in the mask, the misery and indecisiveness underneath shining through. A few of the strikes aimed at the guards had been unnecessarily hard. There had been glints of real anger in his eyes as he attacked. It was no wonder the older men had lost, because they had _no_ idea what they were fighting against.

After lunch they went to the small library and set up the chess set Alfred had packed. The prince had, despite his claims of needing to, spoken very little over lunch and he seemed rather distant even now, staring at the board, almost hunched over the table, with his chin resting in one hand. The sloppy pose made him look years younger than he actually was, and Slade didn't like it. He knew the prince wasn't a man yet, by the rules of this country, but he didn't want to think about slaying a _child_. Not that he wanted to think about that scenario at all right now. The takeover itself, yes; how to get his men in, how to stage the attack... He didn't want a bloody battle, he preferred it if as few people were involved s possible, and it was very important that there were witnesses. He had an idea ready now, however, which he hoped would work, and, if not… he'd have a backup plan ready.

"Checkmate," Slade said, not having lost his focus on the game.

"What? No, that can't-" Robin began but then saw it himself. "But…"

"No one ever beaten you before?" Slade smirked. The boy blushed, though, so it might have been partly true.

"Set it up again," the prince ordered. "I'll focus this time."

The fact that he had lost actually made Robin _more _excited about the game, and this time he _did_ focus. He lost again. His slave was very clever, but he claimed he didn't know the names of the techniques he used, and even called some of the pieces by different names. Robin just shook his head and gestured for the game to be set up once more. It let him forget about everything. His head had been full of the same things that had plagued his dreams that night. He had never felt such an emotional turmoil before… fear, anger, doubt, guilt, shame… and a tiny bit excitement. All were pulling at him at the same time, in all directions, until he felt like he would be torn apart.

They played until late in the afternoon and by then Robin had managed a few wins. They were eventually interrupted when a servant knocked on the door.

"You Highness, your guests have just arrived."

"Thank you, I'll be right out," Robin said, and, as the door closed, took a deep breath.

"Come, Slade. It's time to welcome my dear friends…"

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: So, if anyone was feeling sad, I'd say the worst is over. For now. Now we're gonna have some fun adventures with the nobles instead, before eventually returning to Gotham and… well… Slade's plan. But let's not think of THAT now, shall we? Nope. See you next Sunday, and Happy Easter!


	13. Misfortunes Come On Horseback

A/N: thank you to **Jayto **for being my beta for this chapter! Whatever is messed up I messed up after she was done… If you spot a cameo in this chapter there will be an explanation in the bottom A/N… ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 13: Misfortunes Come On Horseback And Depart On Foot **

Slade saw Robin straighten up and a wide smile appear on the prince's face before he opened the front doors and stepped out onto the stairs leading down to the courtyard.

"Welcome! I hope you had a pleasant journey?" he asked his guests. The yard was teeming with people as the nobles of course had brought their own personal servants along. They had also been accompanied by quite a few guards. Robin wondered how they would be able to house them all. He knew that the guards would most likely return to the castle the next morning, as Robin's security would provide protection when they all travelled back again, but it would still be a bit crowded here tonight. Still, that was the servant's problems, not his.

He had to wonder what the young lords were so afraid of, though. After all, the kingdom of Gotham wasn't a warzone by far. On the other hand it was more impressive to travel with a large entourage, he guessed.

"Blackgate insisted we _ride_," Lord River grumbled. His full last name was really Sprang River, after his father's duchy, but that was just too much of a bother. His first name was Frederic, Robin remembered, and his family were the Blackgate's main rivals for power after the Wayne dynasty.

"You _did _arrive unexpectedly early," Robin nodded, as he thought they would have taken carriages. He then looked over to the horses and his smile froze. "They have been ridden hard."

"Well, what else are they good for?" Bryant Blackgate snorted. "Servants! Draw me a bath!" he then called out.

"There will be no baths tonight. We don't have the same luxuries here as in Wayne Castle, and the horses will be tended to first," the prince said, holding up his hand to stop the servants from obeying the young lord's order. "I'm sure a bucket of hot water each can be arrange for each of you, however, _after_ the animals have been watered and rubbed down. In the mean while you will be shown to your quarters to rest a bit before dinner and your attendants can unpack."

Lord Blackgate was forced to agree. Robin was relieved that Alfred hadn't invited all of his 'inner circle' and only stuck with those whose family's status and influence demanded that they were included. In addition to Lord Blackgate and Lord River there was Lord James Gordon III, the one who shared some of Robin's interest in horses, and the slight, strawberry blond Lord Lindon Riley who always seemed to be cowering, though he was much higher in rank than Gordon. With his light hair he did stand apart a bit, however, as darker colors were more common among the higher ranked nobles. Still, he was a snob and a spoiled brat, but then again, so were they all, the prince included, even Robin realized that now. He wondered how he came to that conclusion, because just a few weeks ago he wouldn't have thought of them like that… he would have considered what he now thought of as being spoiled as simple knowing your own worth and rank. Maybe Slade had a part of opening his eyes a little bit, not that the man had pointed it out or rubbed it in his face, but… there was something about him that made Robin think that the shallow lifestyle he had been living was something to be… almost ashamed of. That made him a bit angry, as he had never really _enjoyed_ being surrounded by tittering brainless twats; there simply hadn't been a choice.

This group, however, at least didn't contain those people who giggled _all _the time, so even with Bryant among them, Robin hoped for some good conversation during dinner.

"Guards," he said, turning to McCormack and the others, "could two of you help with the horses and one go to the gamekeeper? Tell him we wish to set out tomorrow for a hunt. At sunrise," Robin added just to torment his guests a little bit. Only Gordon was a good rider, Bryant was capable, Frederic could hang on and Lindon was quite awful. For all of them, after the long ride today, going out hunting that early tomorrow would be painful. The prince hoped that meant that they would retire early tonight, though. He had made up his mind to be as pleasant as he could, but he had his limits, especially here where he felt like he wouldn't be able to get away from them. Sometimes he wondered if he wasn't born to be a hermit, but on the other hand he didn't mind Slade's presence one bit, so maybe it was just the company that made a difference.

Robin knew that dinner was well on its way in the kitchen, so he made sure the staff there retrieved enough water for four buckets to heat while the guards and half of the visitors' staff took care of the poor horses. It was clear that not all of them had been exercised regularly and the prince was actually worried for their health.

"Slade?" he said as his guests had disappeared inside, "do you hunt boar from horseback? I've never been on a boar hunt and I don't think we should take some of my guests out tomorrow."

"I don't know how it's done here, I'm afraid," Slade answered. "In the mountains we usually go by foot, though, and hunt with spears."

"That sounds exciting," Robin grinned.

"A bit _too _exciting at times," the man smiled. "And speaking about excitement… should we get you ready for dinner?"

The prince made a sound that was rather un-prince-like. "I don't know how I'll get through it without breaking something…" he admitted.

"Well," the slave smirked. "It sounds to me that you might need some relaxing first, then. Don't worry, Master, I'll take care of that."

Robin chuckled softly. "Very well, slave… I would be a fool to turn down such expertise, wouldn't I?"

"Indeed. My prince is not a fool," the man agreed.

* * *

"That was a superb dinner, considering our simple surroundings," Lord River said and wiped his mouth on his linen napkin. They had finished the last warm course and were now awaiting dessert, having just been served a particularly sweet wine.

"Yes, quite," Bryan Blackgate agreed. "Now, Robin, maybe you can explain why you plan to marry some Steel whore instead of my sister?"

"Your sister is thirty," Robin pointed out. _And has the personality of a rabid dog_, he added in his own mind.

"She still has some childbearing years left. Our families united at last, the subjects would rejoice."

"I'm sure they will rejoice either way… but I haven't declared any engagement yet. If I had, however, you would have just insulted your future queen gravely, Bryant. You should watch your tongue."

The young lord paled a little realizing what consequences his jibe might have had.

"Of course, Robin. Only a joke," he said stiffly.

"My Lord, if I may ask," Riley began. "What are we hunting tomorrow? Pheasant? Deer, perhaps?"

"Wild boar," Robin deadpanned, enjoying the way River choked on his wine.

"Wild boar?" the young man spluttered.

"Oh yes, there's a lot of them here now, plaguing the countryside. Huge beasts. You just ate one of them, by the way. My slave killed him on the way here with only a sword."

"It must have been small?" Gordon asked carefully.

"Oh no… could have gutted a horse, that one. And yes, it's _terribly_ dangerous, of course, but I wouldn't insult you by leading you on a hunt for rabbits, now, would I?"

His guests looked like they would _love_ a rabbit hunt. Robin understood that, but he wasn't afraid for his own safety. He had Slade. The man was currently standing against the wall with a few servants who were there just in case their masters needed something, and the prince glanced over at him. The man's piercing eye met his immediately and his lips stretched in a little smirk, his head giving an almost invisible nod. The prince felt the encouragement and reveled in it. It wasn't something he was used to, after all.

The dessert arrived but the young lords seemed to have lost some of their appetite. Robin, however, enjoyed the steamed suet pudding with dry fruit immensely.

"Well, gentlemen," he said as he was finished. "Maybe we should retire, seeing that we have an early day tomorrow."

"Yes, I was just going to suggest the same myself," Bryant said, and rose from the table before Robin did, which, of course, was terribly rude, but only to be expected. "Come Lindon," he said, and Robin saw the blond boy duck his head.

"Actually, I need a word with you, Lord Riley," the prince said quickly. "I won't keep you long, and we can speak in my quarters as they are close to yours. Goodnight, I'll make sure the servants wakes you in time for a light breakfast."

Blackgate didn't look happy when he had to leave without his… whatever Riley was to him. The fact that the blond looked relieved, though, proved Robin's suspicions might be true.

The boy, Robin found it hard to think of him as anything other, though he was no more than six months or so younger than him, seemed nervous when they entered the prince's bedroom. He glanced at Slade a lot as if he expected the man to attack him. Robin almost chuckled at the thought.

"Lord Riley… Lindon… we are friends, are we not?" Robin asked, feeling a bit fake, but this was for the other young man's good, not for his. Although, in the future, who knew? As he had realized himself, he would _need _friends. _Real_ friends. One could just hope that the blond wasn't the airhead he portrayed himself to be.

"Of course, Your Highness!" Riley answered eagerly.

"Well, good. Because friends look out for each other, and I've noticed the way Bryant treats you."

"I… I… there's nothing… I mean… he's not…"

Robin held up a hand. "Do not worry, I will not pry, and I will not say a word. All I want is to make sure that you won't spend more time with Blackgate than you _want_ to… understand?"

"Yes, Sir, it's just… My parents owe his family quite a large sum of money… they will be able to pay it back, b-but Bryant… Bryant says that…"

"That…?" Robin asked, his anger growing.

"That… a word from him, and his family will claim the debt _now_, and not after the harvest as it was decided…"

"The debt is between your parents, not you. Now, I'll have a word with Bryant −don't worry, I won't tell on you− and if he wants your company in the future, claim I asked to see you, or asked you for a favor. I will back you up. Understand?"

"Y-Yes, My Lord… t-thank you!"

"No trouble. Maybe one day you can help me when I'm in need," Robin said, driving the debt home. Maybe it was foul play, but he would help the young man, after all, and to make real friends now… Robin wasn't sure he knew _how_.

When Lindon left, Robin turned to Slade.

"Go get Bryant. I will look the other way if you happen to scare him a bit."

'A bit', it seemed, was an understatement. The young man arrived white as a sheet with the slave's hand around his neck like a vise. He was in his nightshirt and looked quite foolish.

"Ah, Bryant, good of you to come," Robin began.

"Come? I was _dragged_ out of my bedroom by this… this… _monster_!"

"Oh? Well, I'm sorry, I told my slave it was urgent… he can be a bit too.. literal, sometimes," Robin said innocently and gave the man an amused glance.

"I'm very sorry, Master," Slade said in a dry voice which everyone could hear wasn't sincere. He didn't even let go of the young lord's neck.

"I have something serious to discuss with you. The other day you… _insinuated_… that something _unbecoming_ was going on between you and Lord Riley. This evening your behavior seemed to hint at this as well. No, don't say a word," Robin had to stop the Lord who was gaping and looking like he wanted to object. "It would be best for us all in case of a trial."

"A… a … trial?"

"A morality hearing, of course… if there is even as much as a _suspicion _that the son of one of the most influential families wasn't, in fact… _pure_…" the prince made a disgusted face. "I, of course, choose to believe that this was all a misunderstanding. My slave has heard some tongues wagging, though, so I think it would be for the best if you and Lord Riley stayed away from each other for a while… I just warned Riley too. I am looking out for_ you_ here… but a scandal like that would reflect badly on_ me_ as well… one of my closest men having questionable ethics? Perish the thought!"

"I… I understand…" Bryant stuttered.

"Good. I'm sorry I disturbed your evening. Slade, show the Lord out, please."

Slade more or less shoved the poor young man through the door and Robin could hear the thump as Blackgate had to catch himself against the opposite wall so he wouldn't collide with it.

After the door closed and they heard the sound of the Lord hastening away Robin threw his head back.

"Oh, _damn, _that felt good…" he moaned.

* * *

"Are you saying I have to ride on a _wagon horse_?" Lord Blackgate complained the next morning. Robin had suspected that he would bounce back and he had, although hopefully he would leave Riley alone.

"Well, you can always _walk_. You shouldn't have ridden so hard yesterday, several of your horses are in no condition for a hunt," Robin told him coldly. The servants in charge of the mounts had asked him what to do about the horses as all the poor things, apart from Gordon's, needed the day to rest. Robin had decided that only two of his guards would come with them, leaving the third guard's horse free. The other two horses they were using were the ones that had brought their supplies. He made sure Riley got the oldest and calmest horse of the lot.

He ignored the grumbling noble and turned to where the gamekeeper was waiting surrounded by what seemed like a sea of brown yipping dogs, all very excited to leave. The man also had an extra horse, but it was fitted with a packsaddle and supplies so they would be able to care for and bring back any prey they might catch.

"Good day for a hunt, My Lord," the man greeted him with a bow.

"Let's hope so, Hayward. Oh, what do you have there?" In the crook of the man's arm a small creature was cuddled.

"This be my new hunting dog, My Lord," the man said and, after the prince held out his hands, handed the pup over to him. The dog, who had been snoozing despite all the excitement, woke up and seemed very happy to have a new face to sniff and lick, his little thin tail wagging enthusiastically.

"Isn't he too young to go hunting? What's his name?"

"Max, My Lord. And he won't be joining in, I'm just taking him with me on the horse so he'll get used to the racket and being in the woods. When he's grown he'll mostly be hunting badgers, rabbits and foxes, but wild boar too, in a pack like this. So he'll need the training," the man added.

"I'm sure you'll be a tough and fearless hunting dog one day, Max," Robin said. "But for now, the excitement seems to be a bit too much for your bladder," he added and quickly put the dog down.

"I'm so sorry, Your Highness!" the gamekeeper spluttered.

"I'll go get you a fresh jacket, Master," Slade said beside him. Robin, however, just chuckled as he shrugged the soiled one off and handed it to an servant who came rushing up for it.

"He's just a puppy, no harm done. And now he seems to think my boots are a rabbit," he added as the small brown pup had buried his tiny sharp teeth in the leather.

"Yes, well…" Hayward said and swept the puppy up. "He _does_ need some training… Now, should I tell you all about today's hunt?"

"Yes, please," Robin said, and by the time everyone was ready and had gathered around, Slade had returned with a new jacket as well, and helped the prince into it.

"Gentlemen," the gamekeeper began. "The quarry we are after is a ferocious one, so please, be on your guard. Wild boars are mostly active during the dark hours, so they should be about to seek shelter to rest by now. We'll ride to a place where they are known to frequent, and I'll send off the dogs to track one down. However, as I have understood that your horses are not trained for hunting, they might be startled or injured. I will remain on my horse, but if you feel insecure in the saddle, you should close in on the prey by foot."

"Oh, good," Robin herd Riley sigh.

"That means you'll be on the ground, though," River chuckled. "_With_ the wild boar."

"Oh. _Not _good," Riley said, changing his mind.

"I think that, apart from Gamekeeper Hayward, we should _all _be on the ground," Robin said. "I don't want the horses to get hurt."

"What about _us_?" Bryant snorted.

"What weapons are we going to use?" Robin asked, ignoring him.

"Crossbows if we can, but these are going to be your best friend," the large man said and handed them each a short, thick, slightly odd looking spear. "This is a boar spear," the man explained. "Don't lose it, especially if you're going on foot. An injured or cornered pig is likely to attack."

"What's this for?" Riley asked and thumbed something that looked like a crossbar under the wide spearhead.

"Oh, that's just to stop the boar from getting to you, My Lord. They get crazy and will run themselves straight through to be able to gut you on their tusks if they get the chance."

"Oh… Oh, well.. maybe we won't find any boar?" the young man asked hopefully.

"Oh, not to worry, Sir, I know exactly where they usually are," the gamekeeper said cheerily. Robin was positive he was having fun on the noble's account.

They set off at a slow pace to make sure all of them could keep up. There were quite a few loud complaints about soreness in the group, but they quieted when the prince merely snorted derisively and didn't offer any sympathy at all.

Robin was surprised at how quiet the dogs were once they got going. There was a yip now and then, but they all kept very close to the gamekeeper who led the way, and seemed focused on their task. Little Max was too young to run with them and sat in front of his master on the horse instead.

The sun, which had promised an early summer for the last two days, was nowhere to be found. The clouds were low, the wind cold and it was quite dark still. The prince pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

"Would you like my coat, Master?" Slade asked from next to him.

"I'll warm up soon enough," Robin smiled, trying to keep his tone a little more impersonal now that they were surrounded by judging eyes and ears.

"As you wish, Master," the man nodded. "Just let me know if you get colder."

"Is he your pleasure slave or your nanny, Robin?" Bryant snickered from his other side.

"He cares for me," Robin shrugged, hoping a pig would taste Blackgate blood today, if only a little.

"I think it's sweet!" young Riley spoke up. "Do you think men like him can fall in _love _with other men?" he continued, of course ignoring the fact that Slade was right there with them.

"In love?" Robin spluttered, his cheeks reddening.

"Is that even possible?" Lord River asked, sounding a bit intrigued. "I mean, we've all heard about Lord Galante and Lord Maroni, but..?"

"What about them?" Robin blinked, and then he also got to hear that piece of gossip.

The conversation became all about those kinds of 'forbidden', or at least rather dirty, subjects from then on. The prince listened more than he spoke, trying to force himself to laugh at the crude jokes. The idea had made him wonder, however, and he couldn't help but glance at Slade from time to time. The slave kept quiet and just gave him a small smirk when he caught him looking. Robin was burning with questions, but knew better than to ask any aloud while they were with company. The fact that two men could seek pleasure from each other was one thing. It was very logical, after all, as a man would more easily know what another man liked… he had also heard, although it was rare, of men renouncing marriage to live together. There were a few myths and legends about men like that, though, but in the stories they had chosen that life because of a wish to remain 'pure', and were hailed as great examples to the youth. Love, though… wasn't that about having a family? Robin wasn't quite sure what the difference between pleasure and love was, or the difference between friendship and love either, really. He expected he would find out when he got married, but he reminded himself to speak to Slade about it later. Maybe the man could clear some things up.

They rode for almost an hour before the gamekeeper held his hand up indicating that they should stop. Immediately the dogs became more frantic.

"Lowered voices from now on, please, gentlemen. I'll set them on the scent and send them off. We have to listen for their baying." The man got off the horse and showed the dog a rag that, Robin assumed, smelled like wild boar. With a short whistle and a hand gesture he then sent them off. Little Max was yapping excitedly too and struggled to be allowed to follow.

"Hush, you," the big man said softly and the pup, amazingly, settled down a little.

"Be ready in case the dogs flushes a pig out of the woods, My Lords," the gamekeeper said and mounted his horse again. "Those who have crossbows should join me in the front and ready your weapons. Don't be too trigger-happy though, I don't want any of my dogs killed."

The Gamekeeper, stationed at the front, was joined by the two guards as well as Lord River and Lord Blackgate. Robin had originally intended to have a crossbow as well, but found that he just… couldn't. He kept seeing his father hunting with one and realized that he might have used that very same bow on _that _day. It was a small chance, of course; the hunting lodge and the castle had plenty of crossbows, but… still. The prince couldn't even lift one. He had the spear and his sword instead, as did Slade who had been allowed to borrow a blade for the hunt.

They were lulled into a false sense of security as they only heard occasional barks from the dogs. Sometimes the gamekeeper would halt and listen carefully before moving on. Somehow he could tell not only what the dogs were up to, but also which individual dog was barking.

"They are all bay dogs," he said, holding back a little bit so he could speak with the prince. "I've got me some fine catch dogs as well and when hunting boar you can use both… first you send the bay dogs out to find the prey, they corner it, and then they let you know where so you can find it. Then you let loose the catcher dogs, and they will grab a hold of the pig's ears, usually, holding its head down until you can get close enough to kill it."

"That sounds like a good idea, why didn't you bring them?" Robin asked although he wasn't scolding the man, it was purely out of interest.

"Oh, His Majesty considers it cheating." The man shrugged. "It's quicker for the beast, usually, though it sounds crueler. Let's you get a good hit in."

"Well, for future reference, when you are hunting with me, I'd like you to do it the way you feel is best. You are the caretaker of all the creatures around here, after all, and the decision about how they die should be up to you," Robin said firmly.

"Thank you, Your Highness, I'm looking forward to more hunts with you, then," the big man grinned.

Suddenly, the dogs started to bay.

"Here we go, gentlemen, we'll ride as close as we can!"

The cold weather was forgotten now, Robin felt like he could easily take his jacket off without feeling chilly as he kicked Dax into a canter. The horse was excited as well and the prince had to focus more on controlling him than on anything else. The young stallion wasn't used to being surrounded by dogs and many other horses when out with his owner and probably sensed the nerves of everyone around him.

The dogs had gathered in a very small clearing and were surrounding a big sow.

"That's close enough for the horses, I'll call the dogs off and then you can take a shot. Aim for the shoulder if you can," the gamekeeper informed them quickly and quietly. A sharp whistle later and the dogs all backed off immediately.

"Now!" the large man ordered and arrows were flying through the air. Only two hit the pig and one was good enough so that the man could order them to advance with their spears.

"She'll choose one to attack and that man better be ready," the game keeper said. "I'll be right here to help. Here she comes!"

Robin and Slade, who didn't have crossbows, were behind the others, and Lord Riley was with them, looking like he had decided that behind Slade's bulk was the safest place to be. After firing his arrow some of the courage seemed to have left Blackgate and he had fallen behind as well.

The sow went for one of the guards in the front who had additional help from his mate, both of them burying their spears into her side. They all rushed forward to help as the animal thrashed and squealed, powerful jaws snapping.

"Would you like the killing strike, My Prince?" the guard, Bailey, asked.

"She picked you, she's yours," the young man answered, and a stab later it was over.

As he looked down on the carnage, the men already working on bleeding out the carcass as pig's meat needed to be cared for quickly, Robin felt a bit… strange. It had all gone very fast and it seemed odd that the hunt was already over. The gamekeeper was on the ground to help too, although he had first cut off the pigs ears and tail, throwing those to the dogs, who were now in what looked like a big brawl, fighting for the scraps.

Bryant Blackgate stood off to the side, his expression disgusted with the idea of getting dirty, now that the 'fun' part was over. In fact_ none_ of the nobles had joined in with the butchering. Frankly, none of them knew what to do. Riley appeared a bit sick to his stomach and was also off to the side, although not as far away as Bryant.

"Look out!" It was Gordon who yelled and frantically pointed at something. Robin looked up just in time to see another pig charge at them. It was heading directly for Bryant, who was closest to it. The young man let out a yell and ran, dropping his spear as he did so. Robin almost wanted to laugh at him, but the sound stuck in his throat as the young man simply pushed Riley out of the way as he fled. The blond, clearly frightened, was frozen to the spot and now fell helplessly, right in the path of the charging beast.

Robin was next in line as the pig's target. The other men, including Slade, were bent over the prey and was only just realizing what was happening. The dogs were still too busy quarrelling to notice anything either. The prince raised his spear and charged. He wasn't fast enough to stop the heavy animal with its sharp cloven hoofs to run into, and over, Riley. The young man gave out a short, pained scream, but the pig had been distracted by Robin and was now attacking _him_ instead.

It was another sow and as such it lacked the male's impressive tusks. Instead it charged with its mouth open, because it still had long and very sharp canines. The sheer power of the charge and hardness and weight of the body was perhaps the real danger, however. Robin didn't have time to think much about this, though; he aimed and thrust the spear into the animal's mouth. It sank deep into her gullet, but it didn't stop her. Robin was pushed back and for a second he was in danger of being run through by the dull end of his own spear. Instead he fell, taking the spear with him. He hit his head as he did and the world spun for moment. When he could see again the animal was on top of him, its jaws hovering over his head, being pried apart by the spear. It should be dead, it probably _was_ dead, but it didn't know it yet. Robin pushed at the body with both hands but couldn't budge it. Blood and saliva dripped down into his face from the beast, the stench from its mouth suffocating. But it didn't move. The weight of it on his chest was making it hard for him to breathe and it seemed like forever before he heard voices and the whole pig was suddenly lifted clear off him. Robin saw Slade's face hovering above him, but the hit on the head, in addition to the shock, was getting the better of him.

"Hey… too slow this time…" he muttered to his slave and then promptly passed out.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: I can't remember exactly WHY (I think it was because of a pic of a wiener dog in chain mail) but I promised some people in the duckling-group that I'd let Max (from the "Every dog has his day" drabbles) have a bit of a cameo in this story… ;)


	14. If You Want a Stable Friendship

A/N: thank you to **Baruga **for being my beta for this chapter!

The title today is funny… ;) as usual it's a saying/quote though, source unknown, so it's not me being clever… ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 14: If You Want a Stable Friendship, Get a Horse**

Robin was only out for less than a minute, and when he opened his eyes again there were hands inside his shirt, carefully feeling his ribcage.

"His Highness is awake and I can't feel anything broken," he heard Slade say.

"I'm… fine… just… hit my head…" he mumbled. "Help me up."

Slade did so, carefully, and then Robin saw several people gathered around someone else. "Lord Riley. How is he?" he asked worriedly.

"Out cold and a broken rib or two, My Lord," the gamekeeper replied. "I think he will make a full recovery though, bless the heavens."

"How will we get him back?" Gordon asked, looking pale.

"Master, if I may suggest a stretcher?" Slade asked.

"Do you know how to make one?" Robin wanted to know.

"Yes, Master."

"Good, then do so. Gordon, River, I need you two to help my slave, and _yes_ he's in charge in this. Bryant, can you find your way back from here? Good, ride to the lodge and have some extra hands meet us, tell them to take the least tired horses. Gamekeeper, guards, if Riley is as comfortable as you can make him, then tend to the pigs. There's no reason the meat should be spoiled as we can't do anything more right now anyway. I'll take responsibility for Lord Riley in the mean time."

"Yes, Sir!" The guards saluted and they all set off to do their job. Robin almost felt astonished. He had given orders before naturally, he wouldn't be surprised if his first _words _had been an order, but never in a situation like this. It felt… good. As he sat down next to his injured comrade, however, he couldn't help but worry about the young man's health. His shirt had been opened and several ugly bruises were already forming on his skin. The pig had really trampled him but hopefully he had gotten lucky and wasn't seriously injured.

Suddenly the blond youngster stirred slightly and opened his eyes.

"Riley? How are you feeling?" Robin asked worriedly.

"… hurts…" The young man's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Where?"

"Chest… head…"

"Understandable, that sow half crushed you… but you'll be just fine. We're working on getting you back to the hunting lodge now."

"…thank…"

"Just rest," Robin said, clasping the blond's shoulder lightly.

Slade and the two young lords, who both looked rather chastened, soon returned with two long wooden poles from young trees they had felled and stripped.

"Can you call your slave off now, he's bossier than my father!" Lord River complained.

"Just trying to teach you how to fell a tree with a sword without cutting any of your own legs off," Robin heard the man in question mutter.

"He _should _be bossy, he's in charge. And he still _is_ until the stretcher is ready," the prince decided.

The supplies the gamekeeper had brought were then raided, and two large sacks were used to finish the stretcher while the other men made quick work of getting the pigs ready for transport. The packhorse then got a heavy load with the two sows, but it was a large, muscular thing and looked like it barely felt it.

They decided to carry the stretcher, as that was safer than using any of the horses, who had been spooked enough already by the events and the smell of blood. Two of the guards took the first shift while Slade led their horses from his own.

"Gamekeeper, is there a physician anywhere near here?" Robin asked the man.

"Don't know about that, but down in the village there is a man who sets bones and pulls teeth…?" he offered.

"We should send for him, just to make sure, until we can get Lord Riley back to Gotham City," Robin decided.

"I'll take care of it as soon as we get back to the lodge, Your Highness," the man nodded. "Not a good idea to move him too much right now anyway. When had you planned on returning?"

"The day after tomorrow," the prince answered.

"It might have to do…"

"If this… _village physician_ says he's not to be moved for longer than that, I'll make the arrangements for it," Robin shrugged. He then winced and caressed his own chest.

"Are you all right, Master?" he heard Slade ask at once.

"Yes… just sore. I really feel it now after getting back in the saddle," the prince said.

"Maybe you should ride with me, Master?" Slade suggested.

"I'll be fine," was the dismissive answer.

Slade kept watching the prince closely. Yet again he found himself impressed with the slight youth. From charging that boar to taking command and now, riding a willful young stallion, which took a lot of muscle work and attention, though it was obvious he wasn't completely 'fine'. His injuries weren't serious as far as Slade knew though. The prince would probably be sore for a few days, but him needing to rest once they came back to Gotham might turn out to be in the man's favor, he figured.

Even though they had taken it easy on the way here, getting back to the lodge took quite a bit longer. They met the men Blackgate had been sent to fetch about halfway, meaning more people to take turns to carry the stretcher, so they could move a little bit faster. There was only a narrow track here, no roads, so they hadn't been able to bring a wagon, but the pace still picked up with the fresh energy, especially as Slade took his turn. The man walked quickly but smoothly and didn't jostle the wounded more than necessary, but with his speed he wore out several men just in one shift. Robin distracted himself from his own pain by watching the man. He wondered how Slade had become that strong, and he reminded himself that the man should be allowed to exercise more frequently to keep his strength up. As soon as the exercise thought entered his mind, his imagination took a completely different turn, which ended up with him blushing.

"Are you alright, My Lord?" It was Lord River who asked. Both he and Gordon seemed in awe of their prince after what had happened. "You look a bit flushed."

"Oh, I'm fine, just felt a bit warm," Robin forced himself to sound flippant and give the other young man a smile. "We've got quite a hunting story to tell at court now, don't we?" he added to get the lord's mind off himself.

The other's immediately began talking about that, and a few sour comments from Bryant wasn't enough to ruin their fun. Robin hadn't noticed before, but now he realized that River and Gordon seemed to give Blackgate the cold shoulder. They weren't too obvious about it, Blackgate was still more powerful than them after all, but they used to hang on his every word and now they didn't seem to hear the jibes or just shrugged them off. Robin hoped it would last a while and that the rumors of the young man's less-than-heroic act would spread throughout the castle when they got home… that might take him down a few pegs. After all, he almost caused Riley's death. The prince wondered if there would be a hearing about the event, but he then decided to leave any legal actions up to Riley and his family. Perhaps that debt of theirs would be considerably lowered to avoid a scandal…

Legal matters amongst the aristocracy were usually dealt with between the involved families, only sometimes brought to the king's attention. The king then chose to either pass judgment himself or bring in one of the magistrates, whose job it was to know all the ancient laws in their specialized fields. Robin had always found their work fascinating, although after trying to read one of the law tomes they got their knowledge from, he more or less gave up. He had thought the books his tutors made him read were dry and hard to understand, but that was nothing compared to those texts.

* * *

Robin sighed in relief as they finally reached the lodge. He let the servants deal with the injured lord, as there was nothing he could do anyway, and had Slade help him upstairs. The man then carefully undressed him and put him to bed before disappearing out the door again with only an "I'll be back in a moment" as an explanation.

The kitchen was abuzz with worry and it didn't get better when Slade asked for hot water and something that would lessen pain.

"The prince will be fine, he's only bruised," the man let the staff know. "Some medical supplies were packed, I hope? Good, then I'll take whatever Lord Riley doesn't need. I'll make sure the Prince rests, but something light to eat later would be appreciated. Come inform us of news of Lord Riley if there is any… and I don't think the Prince would be pleased if the meat we brought back isn't taken properly care of." That got everyone going again and soon Slade returned to the prince's quarters with a pitcher of hot water and some supplies.

He carefully read the instructions and mixed some tea for the young man which, the packet claimed, would relieve pain. He had also found a container of the strong cream that he had been given for his back but only took a little of that, as the blond would most likely need it more.

They said very little as Slade first wiped the prince down with hot, moist towels and then tended to each bruise while prompting the boy to drink all of the apparently bitter brew.

"I need to use the facilities," Robin said after a while, blushing slightly. The man understood that the fact that the prince had said anything at all meant that he needed some help to get to his feet, so he more or less lifted him from the bed. "I can barely move…" the young man grumbled.

"You're just getting stiff now after having a rest, it's your muscles trying to tell you that you should take it easy, Master," Slade told him.

"Oh, I will. I had planned on going hunting again tomorrow, but I think it's safe to say that those plans are canceled…" the prince said dryly.

"If not, I would have tied you to the bed," the man smirked.

"Lovely. Tied up by my slave. Talk about being the laughingstock of the court…" the prince chuckled dryly as he headed to the bathroom door.

"Pay attention to the color."

"What?" the prince turned around, blinking like a confused owl.

"The color of your urine. You have to tell me if it seems darker than normal."

"Lucky I had a pig die on me today, or that request would have just been…" The young man disappeared into the bathroom before he had finished the sentence, leaving Slade chuckling.

After Robin had come back and muttered something about everything looking 'fine', Slade got him back to bed and washed up himself.

As there wasn't much else to do and he didn't want to go down and join the commotion downstairs, Slade settled down on his own cot with a book. It was only lunchtime, though it felt much later after everything that had happened. He even considered snoozing for a bit as he hoped the prince would do the same, but then he heard the young man's voice.

"Slade?"

The man almost sighed, although he couldn't muster any real annoyance. He recognized the tone; the prince had something on his mind and wanted to talk.

"Yes, Master?" he asked calmly.

"Can two men love each other as a man and a woman can?"

"Yes."

"What, really?" the young man tried to push himself up on an elbow to stare at his slave, but didn't get far before he winced and fell back. Slade got up from his own cot to take a seat next to the prince. The situation reminded him of telling his own sons bedtime stories and again the thought of Robin as being so young irked with him. He pushed it aside to focus on the conversation instead.

"I've heard about a few cases. Why would it surprise you? You already know that men can bed each other, after all."

"Yes… I just pictured marriage to be different… you know… something _more_."

"It is more than sex, of course, and more than friendship… but that doesn't mean that two men, or two women, can't share that feeling."

"Two WOMEN too?" The boy's eyes went very wide.

"Yes. Just as young noblemen often have male personal slaves, the women tend to have female companions," Slade explained.

"But… they don't… I mean… they don't have…um… How do they…? You know..?"

"Damned if I knew, Master," the man deadpanned.

Robin frowned slightly. "You know _some_ things, I can _tell_!"

"Well, I can_ imagine_ some things," the man shrugged. "I would think their mouths and fingers would be important."

"Oh."

"Maybe you can ask your wife on the wedding night?" the man grinned.

"No… no…" the boy said and then got a triumphant look on his face. "I'll have _you_ ask her!"

Suddenly, no matter how cruel it sounded, Slade was glad that the prince would be dead before he had a chance to order him to have_ that_ conversation.

Lunch arrived shortly thereafter in the form of a thick and rather spicy soup. Nothing was wrong with the prince's appetite; he ate so much that he promptly fell asleep shortly after and napped until late in the afternoon. At that point his entourage joined him to enquire about his health and tell him that Lord Riley now was awake. The blond had almost been scared to death, however, after having been woken up by a rough looking bear of a man who was busy undressing him. It had, of course, turned out to be the village's 'physician', who also was the blacksmith. Once his examination was over the man had declared that 'the whelp will live' and left. After hearing this and trying not to laugh too hard, as that hurt, Robin sent for a servant and ordered him to have one of the wild boars delivered to the village. One half to the blacksmith and the rest to be distributed as seemed fit. It wasn't like they needed the meat themselves, after all, and the farmers were not allowed to hunt big game on the king's hunting grounds.

After his nap after lunch, Robin wasn't that tired once evening came so he had Slade read to him from the literature he had been ordered to look through. He didn't fall asleep until after midnight and by that point Slade had to visit the kitchen to make some honey tea for his poor throat. The prince might have opened up quite remarkably in the short time he had been the man's 'master' but he still hadn't _quite _grasped the concept that his wishes might affect other people or cause trouble for them. Still, Slade knew that if he had told the prince that his throat was getting sore the boy would have let him stop, far from all people of his status _would_ have. Thus, it wasn't from lack of _caring_ the prince hadn't realized that reading for hours might make someone hoarse, it was from _inexperience_. If someone had ever read to him for so long before that person hadn't said anything either. Slade wondered if he should have spoken up, but it was a little too late to foster the young man, after all, and he _was_ too injured to do anything_ else_ with...

The man chuckled to himself as he swallowed the sweet, hot drink. It wasn't like _he_ was the most considerate person in the world either. He had taken over his kingdom, or his family's part of it, at sixteen, and hadn't come this far by caring about other people. He had learnt to _observe_ them, though, to know what they were thinking, and if he then chose to ignore it or not depended on his current needs and mood.

It frustrated him that Robin could be so _oblivious _to other people, but it was all in his upbringing, of course, and some of the façade, the man had learned, was fake. The boy had been hurt, rejected, and protected himself by keeping other's away. Animals, however, he opened up to easily and happily, so the potential to treat other humans the same way was _there, _it was just underdeveloped. The lack of connections the young man had played into Slade's hands, though. Neither the king nor the prince were very sociable and, though they seemed well liked, they didn't have any really close friends. Their deaths would be a shock to the aristocracy, of course, but political loyalty changed easier than friendship did, so the man assumed that would mean that the court would be easier to handle with no one suffering from personal grief. The risk of revenge was also smaller. What had happened today might cause some problems, but the young men would be kept in control by their families. The old dynasties knew what was important in the long run: their status and wealth. They wouldn't risk it for a dead king and prince unless they wanted to join them. They would fall in line, and quickly too, and so would their youngest members.

* * *

The next morning Robin could hardly move without groaning, but he was also much more eager to get out of bed. Slade, knowing it was mostly muscle soreness, let him get up and they went to visit Riley who was now fully awake. The young man's chest was bandaged as was a foot, one of his hands and his head, but at least all that was broken were two ribs and a finger, from where the animal had stepped on his hand.

"I heard you saved my life, Your Highness," he said, the same awe in his eyes as Gordon and River had had.

"I just tried to distract the pig," Robin said humbly. "It was already too late when I charged it."

"If you hadn't , it would have trampled me worse… or bit me," the young man said. "I don't like forests…" he added as a second thought.

"I won't ask you to go hunting with me again, then," Robin chuckled.

"Oh, but I didn't mean that! Of course I want to come!" the blond said urgently.

"Maybe we just won't go for boar, then…" the prince smiled.

"Maybe not," the young lord smiled back.

"So, about what happened… do you remember what Lord Blackgate did?" the prince asked carefully.

"Indeed I do," the noble's face suddenly darkened.

"Do you intend to take any legal actions?" Robin wanted to know.

"Not officially, no. It might be deemed a 'hunting accident' as so many strange occurrences are…" Riley said. "But I will have… words… with him. I'm sure we'll come to an… agreement." The smirk on the young face was border line evil and Robin started to think that the boy had something between his ears after all.

"Good," he grinned. "You should. Well, you look tired, I will let you rest now. Do you think you are strong enough to return home with us tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes, my valet said they are preparing the wagon for me so I can lay down. It's still open, though, so I hope it won't rain…"

"We'll keep our fingers crossed," the prince nodded.

* * *

"What kind of an agreement do you think he was talking about, Master?" Slade asked once they had left Lord Riley's room.

"Whatever it is, I hope it's painful," Robin growled.

"Hmmm… are your thoughts as deprived as I think…?" the man leered.

"What? No, _NO_, not_ that_! I meant money! Financial losses is how you _really_ hurt these people," Robin said hurriedly and then burst out laughing. "You didn't think I thought he meant…?" He paused for a little while. "Um… he _didn't_…? Did he?"

"Whatever the young Lord is planning, I'm sure it will hit the spot," the slave said airily.

Robin spent the rest of the day limping around and overseeing the preparations to go home. They would take what was left of the meat, which had been salted, but as they had eaten most of the provisions the servants had brought, there was still room on the wagon for the injured lord.

"Are you sure you want to ride all the way back tomorrow, Master?" Slade asked him. "You can travel in the wagon as well…?"

"I'm not sure I _want _to ride, but I will," the prince shrugged. "I wish I wasn't so sore, though."

"Well, let me see what I can do about that, Master. Why don't you retire to your rooms and undress and I'll come right up after I've gotten some oil heated," Slade suggested.

"I'm not sure if I'm in the mood to-"

"No, no, just a massage. And trust me; you're in the mood."

"… bossy…" Robin muttered. "I stopped using the riding crop on you way too soon… but fine, as I have nothing better to do…"

Slade smirked as he heard that the boy didn't mean it. Among the prince's toiletries he found some of the scented body oil the boy favored and brought it to the kitchen to be carefully heated in hot water. He also ordered a bath for the prince and himself although he told the servants to fill the tubs in an unused room next to the prince's, as he didn't want them to interrupt the massage by running back and forth with water.

Robin only faintly remembered the first and only massage the man had given him. He had been so upset at the time and the touching had just felt soothing. That wasn't _quite_ true this time around, however.

"OOOOWWWW.. ah… ngh…" he moaned and grunted as the man's fingers dug into his stiff, aching muscles.

"Am I too rough? Is it hurting too much?" the man asked.

"No… yes… it hurts… but it feels so _good_…" the prince groaned.

"I could be gentler?"

"No, harder! I like it when you go deep like −ah!− like that! Gnnn…"

Slade smirked at the image the prince's words created in his mind, but continued to rub and knead the young man from head to toe, drawing on all his knowledge about the human muscles. Slowly, the knots in the body spread out naked on the bed began to loosen until the boy felt boneless. Slade then wrapped him up in the towels that he had been lying on, which had protected the sheets from the oil, and carried him into the next room where the baths stood ready for them.

Robin let out a deep sigh as he was lowered into the hot water, and Slade leaned the prince's head back against the rim as he wasn't sure the boy had enough strength to keep it up.

While Robin soaked, Slade quickly cleansed himself and then helped the prince. Once more Robin didn't seem that interested in ever leaving the tub, but Slade lifted him and wrapped him in clean, fresh towels before taking him back to his room and finishing the massage by gently rubbing him dry.

"MMm…" The prince sighed and smiled up at Slade who was half kneeling on the bed. Robin then lifted his arms, wrapped them around the man's neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

It was slow and lazy, like enjoying a special treat in a summer garden and, as it lacked the immediate urge and need for release it was, somehow, much more intimate than their other kisses to date. It wasn't about reaching your own climax, it was about… something more than that.

"Slade…?" Robin all but whispered as their lips slowly parted.

"Yes?"

"If you love me… I'll allow it."

The man blinked, not quite following.

"Allow what?"

"For you to love me, of course!" the prince explained, toying with the man's hair. "You are only a slave, so it's not really _proper_… but I'll let you."

As the man grasped that the boy didn't mean that he would allow him to _make_ love to him, merely to _harbor the feeling_, he couldn't help a snort of short laughter. Immediately the young man's eyes darkened.

"What's so funny?" he asked, the hurt in his voice evident.

"Nothing… nothing, Master. I'll gladly love you one day," the man lied to smooth things over.

"You mean you… _don't_?" the prince sounded disappointed and a bit defeated.

"Master…" Slade searched desperately for a probable explanation. "Love takes a long time to really grow and become real. Mere infatuation doesn't count."

"Oh… so… you're_ infatuated_ with me, then?" the boy asked, his sky blue eyes glittering again.

"Yes…" the man chuckled and kissed him once more, deeper this time. "Yes, I am." And that might not have been _that _much of a lie.

* * *

Slade looked down on the person forced to kneel on the floor. He raised his sword and with a powerful swipe separated the head from the body. It had been a clean cut, over in less than a second. The head hit the floor and rolled to the side. Terror and betrayal was still etched across it's features, but the eyes… Those sky blue eyes were… empty.

Slade gasped as he sat up in his cot, his heart racing. A nightmare? He looked over at the prince's bed but he was sleeping peacefully. The man rubbed his neck, feeling how damp the skin was there, and shook his head. He couldn't _remember _his last nightmare. Sometimes he'd wake up from a feeling of falling, granted, but an actual nightmare? Not since he was young, or perhaps in the wars.

All because of that boy. He had to focus on the larger goal here, but he realized that the prince's death would be harder on him than he had tried to tell himself. Maybe, _maybe_ there was a way around it. Once they got back to Gotham the boy would have him help finding out the particulars for his planned abdication and Slade would do his best to see if there was a _faster _way for him to give up the crown. Something that would instantly make him unsuitable to be king. The prince wouldn't want to do it like that, of course, but he wouldn't be given a choice… And once Slade was king… Well, the boy was his. Alive and his. It wasn't an unpleasant thought. There would have to be some changes, of course, and the boy wouldn't like it at first, but Slade was sure he could get him under control. The man smirked. He would get his way.

He knew that he was, perhaps, spoiled when it came to 'getting his way' and he also knew that sometimes he had to do things he didn't want to do to reach his goals. Before his first battle, at sixteen, just months after ascending the throne, he had been so nervous that he had thrown up multiple times… But he had still done it, taking the first step to reuniting Blüdhaven. And now he might have to do something that he didn't want to do to gain power over Gotham. This felt more personal, though, because no one else would hesitate about killing the prince, only him… And he wasn't sure that there was any other reason for that than a temporary desire to get out of the role he had been playing and reverse it. After that… Would he really be interested in keeping the boy around? Wouldn't it be dangerous? A rebellion could still form around him, laws or no laws.

Slade sighed. Unless he found a way that was absolutely fool proof… he couldn't let the boy live. He shouldn't get his hopes up, he should distance himself from the young man… that would be for the best.

At that moment the prince rolled over in bed and the covers slid off him. He had fallen asleep without a thread on after the massage and bath and was now displaying his small, pert ass perfectly in the moonlight. The man sighed again. He wasn't making it easy for him, was he?

* * *

"Slade?"

"Yes, Master?" It was the next morning and the man was currently brushing the young man's hair.

"What I said last night… I might have gotten a bit too personal…"

"That's fine, Master."

"No, I mean… when I said that you could… _love_ me… I think that's overstepping the boundaries a bit."

"I understand, Master. I did want to give you the same rights, though," the man deadpanned.

The prince met his eye in the mirror and grinned. "You're so funny, Slade… like I would need your permission for anything I'd would like to do to you… or _feel_ for you… but it's not to be, of course. I plan to love my _wife_, not my slave. That would be rather sad, don't you thin- ow!"

"Sorry, Master, I didn't see that tangle," Slade claimed smoothly.

"Just you wait until your hair is longer, I'll return the favor…" the prince half muttered, half joked. "Oh, that reminds me, I might have to get a groomer for you…"

"That won't be necessary, My Lord," Slade insisted.

"Yes, but I've noticed that you shave _yourself_, that can't be safe! Speaking about shaving, I think I'm due for one."

Slade had to squint to see the downy hairs on Robin's chin, but he wouldn't argue with the prince. Instead he went to order some hot water and prepared the shaving kit. He had never shaved another man before but he had watched how Alfred did it and so, in the end, there was no blood spilled and Robin hadn't seemed to notice that Slade was struggling not to cut his nose or an ear off by accident.

Robin was more mobile today but to the young man's embarrassment, Slade still had to help him up in the saddle when it was time to leave. The prince noticed the smirk on Blackgate's face and rode up to him.

"Bryant, you are to escort the wagon back."

"What? But it will be going slower because-"

"Yes. Exactly. _Because_," the prince growled as his eyes followed Riley, who was being lifted into the carriage as they were speaking. Robin looked back at the dark-haired noble and raised an eyebrow.

"Understood, My Lord," Bryant muttered grudgingly.

"You might have improved your relationship with _some_ these last couple of days, Master," Slade told the prince in a low voce as they rode out the gate. "But I'm afraid you've made even more of an enemy of _one_."

"Probably," Robin snorted. "I don't care. I'm his future king, as far as he knows. He can't touch me."

"But if you choose to abdicate?"

"Then I'll deal with him when that time comes…" the young man glanced over at the slave and smirked. "It's nothing a duel won't fix."

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: I'm soooo far ahead right now, and very excited about where the story is at, so I kinda wanna post all the chapters at once… but I shan't. Not ONLY because I'm evil, but because I find myself going back and forth in the chapters a lot, fixing plot holes, adding plot points and whatever… Hang in there!


	15. Four Things Greater Than All Things Are

A/N; Thank you to **Aikino **for being my beta for this chapter! As usual, if something is fucked up, I probably fucked it up after she was done… ;)  
Today's title comes from Rudyard Kipling, "The Ballad of the King's Jest"

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 15: Four Things Greater Than All Things Are: Women and Horses and Power and War**

Robin took the lead, taking only Slade and one guard with him, and left the others to follow wagon. River and Gordon did so of their own free will, to keep Riley company. It was early in the morning as they set off and the ride was calm and uneventful. Just as on the journey _to_ the lodge, Robin paused as they finally saw Gotham City spread out beneath them, basking in the rays of the sinking sun. Slade noticed a look of pride in the prince's eyes before they turned solemn and the boy sighed. Maybe he was thinking of what he would be giving up soon, if he decided to abdicate. Fog stamped her hoofs a bit, the mare seemed to know they would be home soon, but Slade held her still to let the prince have a good look at his city. It might very well be his last.

After another minute or two the prince urged Dax forward again and soon enough they were greeted at the castle gates. Robin sent word to the royal physician to make sure he would take a look at Lord Riley once they arrived, just to confirm that the young man was actually out of danger.

Slade had time to nod at the Blüdhaven boy who seemed to be waiting for his arrival, and saw him take off to assumingly tell Wintergreen that he had returned. The man hoped to be able to set up a meeting with him soon, but he also wanted to have his plans complete first, if he could.

The prince agreed to retire after a small dinner, and the boy sighed deeply as he was stretching out on his bed an hour later, gingerly cradling his chest. Alfred had been shocked by the bruising, you could actually see an imprint of a cloven hoof in the middle of the young man's chest, but Robin had assured him that he was alright. Still, the ride had made the muscles in his chest and back tense up again.

"Would you like another massage, Master? I also have some cream for the pain," Slade offered.

"Mmm… just my back, maybe… I'm tired…" the prince mumbled. "We have a lot of work to do, starting tomorrow," he added.

"Yes, Master," Slade said and poured a little of the boy's scented skin oil into his palm. He rubbed his hands together to heat it, and then set to work.

He soon had the boy completely relaxed and moaning under his hands. He was so sensitive to touch, maybe because he had been deprived of a lot of physical contact before now. Slade smirked. If there only was time… it probably would be almost too easy to…

But the prince knew what he wanted too. When he was satisfied with the massage he turned over, and, smiling, he pushed the man's head down his body, showing with no uncertainty what he required the slave to deal with next. Slade did, of course, but got nothing in return that night, as the prince was asleep mere seconds after reaching climax.

Slade washed up, made sure his trunk hadn't been touched and that everything was still where it should be, and then he went to bed as well. He spent hours awake, however, going through different situations in his mind. He knew what he _wanted_ to happen, but only fools planned just for_ that_.

* * *

"I have a lot of official duties to catch up on today, so I want you to go to the library for me," the prince ordered the next morning. "Do you know what you need to look up?"

"Yes Master," the man nodded. "Laws and procedures concerning abdication and succession."

"Good. Now, you won't be allowed to take all the books with you, I'm pretty sure some aren't allowed to leave the library, but there's parchment and pens there so you can copy things down if you find anything interesting. Just don't let people see what exactly you're interested in… It's common for me to study laws and history though, I just don't want any rumors."

"Of course not, Master."

"You _do_ know how to write, I assume? I mean I know you can read, but…?"

"Yes, Master, it's not going to be a problem."

"Good. You're so talented, Slade. You should have been born a noble man… you're a waste as a slave," the prince smiled.

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an insult…" the man said dryly.

"Off with you," the prince laughed and as Slade turned around he got a slap on his behind. He couldn't help an exasperated snort, which only made the prince laugh again.

* * *

After his permit was thoroughly checked by one of the guards at the entrance, it was handed back to him and Slade was let into the library. He stopped just after the threshold and, for the first time since the water heater, he was impressed with something about Wayne Castle. The room was bigger than he thought it would be and the books reached all the way to the ceiling, only reachable by long, movable ladders. There were freestanding bookcases as well and a long row of small writing desks where a few men were seated, scratching away at papers or with their noses deeply buried in a book. There were no women here. Come to think of it, apart from servants, Slade had only seen women in the throne room and when the nobles were socializing… he wondered if they weren't allowed in here or was simply locked up during the day or something. Things would have to change around here when he took over, even though it might have to be slow… a whole state run only by men, though? The thought was very strange to the king. The only reason he hadn't brought any female soldiers here was the trade caravan cover they had been using because, as he had told the prince, women of Blüdhaven had their own caravans and this was a tradition which was at least somewhat known down here as well. Of course women had fields they specialized in, and men had theirs, but no one who wanted to pursue a career was stopped from doing so just because it was considered to 'belong' to a certain gender. There weren't many women working in the mines or as heavy-duty blacksmiths, and there weren't many men working as weavers and tailors, but there were a few of each, and that enriched the community, Slade thought.

The room smelled quite distinctly of burning lamp oil and old, dusty books. Light was filtering in from high, narrow windows on one side, but the glass was painted, maybe more to protect the books from the sun's rays than for actual decoration, but it was still rather breathtaking.

"May I help you?"

Slade turned towards the source of the slightly disapproving voice to find a small man peering up on him through thick glass lenses.

"Yes, please. My Master, Prince Robin, sent me to help him find information for his studies."

"Curious. Why didn't His Highness ask me? I _am_ the librarian after all."

"I cannot answer that, but he knew it was a big task. It might take the whole day, if not longer, and he surely knows your time is more valuable than to be spent on a mere assignment," Slade said smoothly.

"Very well," the small man sniffed, "what kind of information is His Highness looking for?"

"Anything you have about the War and Succession laws."

"Both quite wide subjects. Any specifications?"

"Mainly how kingdoms can be transferred to new rulers and historical examples, preferably within the history of Gotham. So war, occupation, heritage… I'm not sure what else… abdication?"

"Serious matters, but I will show you the shelves… The books whose spines are marked with red ink are not to be taken out of the library. If you want to take any other books, come find me and I will write them into the ledger."

"Thank you so much," Slade gave a short bow before following the old man. It didn't hurt to be polite to someone who might make things easier for you, after all.

Hours went by. Slade did the research Robin wanted but was more interested in what _he_ wanted to know; if there was a way to 'having the cake and eating it too' as he had mentioned to Wintergreen. One that _didn't _risk the invasion. It was impossible to hide the prince away and just claim he was dead; there needed to be proof, preferably witnesses to his death who were considered reliable in this kingdom. A switch of identities, killing a look-a-like wouldn't work either, unless he happened to stumble upon the boy's identical twin in the kitchen. Blue eyes and black hair was extraordinary rare here, and in Blüdhaven too, even though he knew a few people with grey or grey-blue eyes and dark hair.

He still had a lot of material to go through and he knew that this would take at least another day, but so far the prince's future looked gloomy. When it came to the abdication subject Slade had almost everything he needed but he wouldn't tell the prince that, of course, because he wanted an excuse to come back. He sighed and rubbed his temples. The language in these books, and the tiny handwriting, was really getting to him. The languages of Blüdhaven and Gotham might be very closely related, but some of these texts had been written hundreds of years ago and it seemed the authors simply _made up_ words when they needed to at times. He was not a scholar, he never would be, and he was pretty sure he would have died years ago if he had tried. At least the battlefield would not let you die of boredom… He dipped the metal tip of his pen into the ink again and made a few, final notes.

After making absolutely sure he put everything back where he found it, feeling the eyes of the librarian drilling into his neck, he rolled up the parchments he had been taking notes on, and, with the kit provided on every desk, tied the roll with a piece of string and sealed it with wax. He had only made notes about the prince's interests there, it was safer to just remember what he had read so far about the rest.

He left the library and headed to the kitchen for something to eat. He didn't know if he was allowed to, but he was hungry, had a headache and things were not going his way. Slade wasn't exactly in the mood to be obedient.

After eating some bread and cheese, however, and downing a pitcher of water, he felt slightly better and headed to the Prince's throne room to see if the boy was still working. The guards at the door confirmed that the prince was still in session and let him in.

Robin looked up as the doors opened, as there was still some time before his next appointment.

"Ah, Slade. Finished?" Robin asked, glancing at Alfred who was at his desk finishing up the notes from the previous meeting.

"Not quite, but I felt I've come as far as I could today," the man answered and bowed as he handed the scroll over.

"Should I take that, My Lord?" Alfred asked, half rising from his chair.

"No, it's just notes for my studies," Robin answered and slipped the roll inside his jacket. "Well Slade, I only have a few meetings left, the next one will begin shortly, so you may stay."

"Thank you, Master," Slade nodded although he had no desire to do so. He'd rather have the time off to further get to know the grounds. He couldn't refuse, however, so he walked to the side of the throne and stood there, patiently.

Alfred coughed at this and the prince looked up.

"Slade, kneel."

"Master?" The man actually felt taken aback by the order.

"Kneel. If you stand next to the throne you have the same status as an advisor. Do I really have to_ explain_ my orders now?" Robin snapped. He had had a long day too, after all.

"No, I'm sorry My Lord," the man said and, gritting his teeth, sank to his knees.

"Good. Come closer," the boy ordered and when Slade did, the young man's hand landed in his hair, playing with it as he was prone to do. "Ah, this makes me feel better…" the boy sighed. "Alfred, I'm ready for the next appointment now."

Robin had more work left to do than he must have realized, because the next two hours dragged slowly by for Slade. He amused himself by judging the young man's ruling style and found some promise in it, but the boy was also a bit too rash and tended to stop listening once he had made up his mind. This could all be put down to youth and lack of experience, however, not his personality… although if he didn't get some guidance he might never learn. Slade had to stop himself from shaking his head. The boy would most likely be dead in less than a week. They had to make their move now, before the extra soldiers and guests arrived for his birthday, so as long as he didn't have a way to let the boy live, why waste time thinking about his future needs?

Finally the valet declared the day's business finished and the prince stood up and stretched.

"I've been sitting all day, I need some light exercise before dinner. Have you eaten at all, Slade?"

"I managed to grab a small bite in the kitchen, Master, so if you're finished we can do some sparring?" he suggested.

"Would that be advisable, considering your bruising, Sir?" Alfred asked.

"We'll just do some easy blocking exercises," Robin shrugged. "And for an hour at the most. Would you have dinner and a bath ready by then?"

"Of course, Sir," the valet bowed.

"Good. You may stand, Slade," the prince said, "Although I still like you down there… it's cute," he grinned.

Slade, subtly, made the prince pay for that comment and having him kneel next to the throne for two hours while being petted like a dog the whole time. So even though they only did blocking exercises the man pushed the young noble harder then he would normally do, and added a bruise or two to his body. After all, he was teaching the boy how to block so he couldn't just aim easy strikes at him, could he?

Robin didn't appear to notice the punishment however; he seemed to be enjoying himself. He was clearly still sore, though, as he kept the time for once and ended the session after just under an hour.

Slade took his meal in the prince's bedroom, they both had a bath and then one of the young man's tutors came by, so it was late before they retired for the evening. Slade caught Robin up on what he had found during the day's research and then asked for more time.

"I don't know if that's necessary, this is pretty much all I need," Robin shrugged as the man helped him into his nightshirt.

"I remember someone saying that the law might state how things_ should_ be done, but history tells us how they _have _been done… and that is just as important in a ruling," Slade told him.

"Yes, well… yes, bringing up historical cases can change a ruling or even a law… and I want to have my back clear, so yes, go back, but not tomorrow. I have some free time in the morning and I'm planning to write to Trader Wintergreen. I want you to deliver the letter, as the contents might be… somewhat sensitive."

"Yes, Master," Slade was delighted as it would give him plenty of time to speak with his closest man.

"Imagine it, Slade…" the boy said, grinning up at him as he sank down into his pillows. "We're soon going to be free!"

* * *

Robin spent the next morning carefully composing a letter to the trader. Actually he started on several which Slade then had to burn in the fireplace.

"You are to wait for an answer, of course," Robin told him as he finally was handed the finished product. "I can't risk a messenger from him being held up by the guards."

"Of course, Master. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Don't rush him, though. Be courteous. I hope there are no grudges between you, with him being your former owner and all?"

"No, I-"

But Robin had suddenly realized something and his eyes widened. "He _was_ your former owner! Did… did you and he…?"

"No, no, he merely bought me as a present for you and had me working with the others until we got here," the man hurriedly explained.

"Oh… good… I mean… I know you have… you know… before… with others… I just…" the young man gave a shudder, and Slade couldn't help but chuckle.

"Do you find him that revolting?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure he's handsome enough, but he's _old_," Robin said, still looking pained at the images his brain had displayed.

"I'm no youth myself," Slade shrugged.

"Pish-posh, if I ever saw anyone fit the expression 'in the prime of his life' it's you, Slade," the prince grinned and reached up to straighten the man's collar. "There. You're presentable. Bring me back some good news, now!"

Slade grinned slightly to himself when he left the room. That damn boy could be charming when he wanted to… or maybe it was Slade who was just too easily flattered…

At the stables he asked for Fog to be saddled and then it was only a quick ride before he sat off at the edge of the Blüdhaven camp.

"Where's Wintergreen?" he asked a few soldiers who seemed to just be hanging around without much to do.

"Who the fuck is askin'?" one of them wanted to know, smirking. They were looking for trouble, that much was clear. Bored soldiers tended to be dangerous. These weren't any of his closest men, so they had never seen him without his helmet and therefore didn't know who they were talking to. Well, they would know better soon anyway. Slade didn't want to waste time arguing. His hand shot out, catching the troublemaker by the throat and lifting him clean off his feet.

"Your _king_ is asking, _soldier_," Sade growled. "And he's not going to ask _twice."_ The man recognized his voice then, and turned very white. As did his pals who tried to edge away. "Don't move!" Slade barked and they all snapped to attention. "Well? Is anyone going to answer the question?"

"Y-yes Your Majesty!" the man he held croaked out. "Please, let me… show you…"

"Good. The rest of you come with us," Slade said and let the man down. The rest of them fell in line behind him as the first soldier led the way towards a caravan, clutching his throat.

"S-sir?" he called out, knocking on the door.

"One moment!" was heard from inside. "What happened to make you sound scared shitless- oh-" the door was opened and Wintergreen grinned when he saw who his guest was. "_You_ happened."

"I guess I did. And I don't know if you need new latrines dug, but these boys are very willing to do it anyway," Slade added and gestured to the soldiers, who actually nodded enthusiastically. "Good boys. You are dismissed." They all bowed deeply, their hands on their hearts, and then left.

"You got off on that, didn't you?" Wintergreen smirked.

"You have no idea…" Slade smirked back. "I miss being feared. You have no _idea _how much I miss it. Power. Respect. But that's for later. Right now I'm the messenger boy…" he sighed and handed Wintergreen the letter.

"What's this? Complaints from the prince about you?" his friend joked as he showed him inside the caravan. "Does he want a replacement?"

"He wouldn't _dare_… he has a business proposal for you. We just need to compose a quick reply to make him happy and then we can start planning." Slade sat down in the front end of the caravan where there was a small table with a wall mounted bench on each side. Two longer benches, which turned into sleeping accommodations at night, was at the other side of the rather square wooden 'house on wheels'. There were cabinets as well, mostly running along the walls above their heads, and Slade had sworn repeatedly when he had managed to bang his head on them during the journey here.

Wintergreen quickly read the letter and Slade explained the back story to it; that the prince intended to abdicate and why, which made the man's eyes go wide. They wrote a positive reply back and then Slade took one of the leftover parchments and began to write down a list.

"Here is what I need you to get. I'll draw up a rough sketch of where I need everyone to be and then all you have to do is wait for the right day and time."

"We have to send the boys home ahead though," Wintergreen reminded him. "We will probably not get a better opportunity to talk than right now. Why don't we _set_ a date and time?"

Slade frowned. He understood the argument, it was logical, but he had hoped that−

"This is about the prince, isn't it?" the older man asked dryly.

"Somewhat."

"_Slade_…"

"Yes, I know. I'm just looking over my options. I need to go through a few more things in the library first…"

"How about two days?"

Slade thought it over and then shrugged. "Yes. At noon, that is one of the weakest times in the castle's security during the daytime… and the plan I prefer has to happen when the King is in session… I'm probably grasping at straws anyway so it's idiotic to draw it out. Better to have it over and done with."

"There's my King."

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm curious though,… you've never been this attached to another man before… you have bedded a few, yes, but this…?" Wintergreen made a vague gesture in the air.

"I don't know… He's… a challenge. And he has promise. He can become so much better than he is, he has already shown improvement… it just seems a waste…"

"And he has a nice ass."

"He has a _perfect_ ass," Slade chuckled in agreement. "But it's not about that anymore."

"Liar."

"It's not _all _about that anymore," the king amended. "He's like… a yearling. Fidgety, half wild, distrustful… gangly, skittish… but there's a promise of greatness inside him… just under the surface."

"And you want to ride him."

Slade gave his friend a look but then snorted. "Such a crude mind you have."

"Yes, well, so do you… although at the moment you wax poetic about a young boy. I haven't seen you like this since−"

"_No_." Slade cut in. "It's_ not_ like with Adeline. I loved her."

"If you say so."

"He's simply _intriguing._ An interesting character," the man claimed more firmly now, his jaw setting in that stubborn line Wintergreen knew meant that it was useless to argue with his king.

"All right. And half Blüdhaven bred."

"Yes. About that, did you get the messenger line working?"

"That I did, no problem."

"Good." Slade scratched down a short message on yet another piece of parchment. "This is to be sent to Grant immediately. I knew I received a letter from the Graysons which must have been sent just days or weeks before they were killed. I vaguely remember it mentioning a child and a request to stay in Blüdhaven to raise him, but no more than that… I've included the approximate date span so it shouldn't be too hard to find in my personal archive."

"May I ask why?"

"I just want to find out more."

"It won't arrive in time, though," Wintergreen reminded him carefully. "Even with fast, fresh horses and riders at regular intervals it will still take about a week to get an answer, at best."

"I know," Slade just answered and frowned down on the orders he had been writing down. "I know." He then seemed to shrug whatever he was thinking about off, and went back to business. "The prince's valet, Alfred, I want him alive. Once we take the castle I want as little bloodshed as possible until I've faced the King, but I need him especially to be kept out of harm's way, and he might try something stupid like protecting the royal family."

"I think I'll be able to describe him to the men, but if he's a loyal servant, what do you hope to gain from him?"

"Probably nothing at all, but he _has _served under the King and has been with the Prince for years, so he knows everything about the castle and how it's currently running… He will probably refuse to work for me, but I will at least _ask_. I think it would placate the staff if they were to take orders from one of their own rather than a Blüdhaven man I appointed to the post."

"I see, very well, let's hope he doesn't run into a sword, then," Wintergreen said with a shrug.

"Let's hope," Slade chuckled. They continued to go over all the details for another half hour and then the king stood up. "I should get back to my little Master, I'm sure he misses me terribly," he said dryly. "Is everything clear? You will have everything ready?"

"Yes, My Lord," Wintergreen said solemnly.

"Good. I'll meet you at noon, then. And… inform our people on the inside. Also, let it slip that if they betray us… they won't live to see the sunset. I'll personally see to that."

* * *

Slade found the prince in his study and the young man, being alone, shot up when he entered.

"You got a reply? What did he say?"

"Master, I wouldn't know, I haven't read it!" Slade said, trying to sound offended, as he handed the sealed letter over to the boy.

"Oh… of course not," Robin said and snatched it before prying the seal off and unfolding the document. After a few seconds a happy grin spread on the young man's face. "He accepted! The asking price… yes, well… it's a lot, but I'm sure I can manage. It doesn't sound completely unreasonable… does it?" Robin asked showed the letter to Slade, pointing to a number.

"No, My Lord, that's what a good warhorse sells for in Blüdhaven… and I doubt he would cheat you; having a connection with the royal family of Gotham is far too valuable."

"Yes... although I won't _be _royalty for much longer…" Robin pointed out.

"No, but _he_ doesn't know that, does he, Master? You didn't tell him about your plans, I hope?"

"Do you take me for an idiot? Of course not!" the prince snorted. "Well, I spent the whole day here so I guess it's time to go and be social… and meet my father… let's just get you into some fresh clothes first, some people at the court have a problem with horse smell."

"I wouldn't want to stink up the place, Master, Slade said dryly.

The prince chuckled as he came closer. "You don't smell bad to _me_…" he smirked and buried his nose in Slade's chest before smiling up at him. "You smell _very_ good."

"My prince, if you wanted to visit the throne room today, please don't inspire me to keep you in bed…" Slade leered. "How about the letter? And are you going to send a reply?"

The prince swiped the paper up and placed it in one of the desk's drawers before locking it. "There, and no, Wintergreen stated that he understood and agreed to my request… I might send him something as a confirmation and thank you later, but not today. So… where does Alfred keep your clothes?"

After Slade looked presentable, as always clad in all black, Robin took a look in the mirror as well and then they were ready to leave. The prince reached for the leash on the dresser and then his hand stilled.

"You saved my life, and without you Riley wouldn't have been brought back safely so quickly… I don't want to use the leash anymore," he said, looking thoughtful. "It doesn't feel right. I guess I could do it for appearance sake, but… no. You go without the leash today, and if it works out we'll see about getting that iron ring around your neck taken off too."

"Thank you, Master," Slade bowed, relived and surprised. "However, I understand the concept of 'for appearances sake' if you feel the need to use it again."

"Well… I _do_ rather like it…" the young man smirked. "But not for today, at least… as long as others understand that you're still _mine_, that is," he added darkly.

As they entered the throne room, Slade took advantage of the opportunity and studied it attentively. He had hoped for another chance to visit this place one more time, just to make sure that he remembered it correctly and hadn't missed anything.

The vaulted ceiling was very high and though there were many windows all were far above them and very narrow, a reminder of more troublesome times. The room itself was long, with an aisle down the middle leading up to a single throne, placed on a dais. A low partition separated the dais and its surrounding area from the rest of the room, so that no one could come too close to the king. Two guards stood at either side of the opening in the partition, but it seemed that people addressing the king had to do so from that point, unless the monarch wanted a private word with them. Just inside the partition, but still a respectable distance from the throne, stood two small writing stands facing each other across the aisle. Slade recognized the man he knew was the king's valet at one of them, busy making notes, and at the other stood an old man Slade hadn't seen before, thumbing through a thick book. He assumed he was some sort of magistrate who was at hand for legal matters.

The rest of the room had more a feeling of a social event. People, a lot of people, were milling around, talking, laughing, arguing or preparing their presentations to the king. A row of chairs stood along the walls for those who didn't have the strength to stand around waiting, and waiting was what it mostly seemed to be about. Just inside the doors to the throne room a couple of clerks were seated and it was to them you gave your name and errand. They would then have messenger boys run up to the king's valet who would put the names down in his ledger after deciding the importance of the matter. In worst case scenarios you would have to come back day after day until it was finally your turn.

Slade didn't see anyone from the lower classes here. Granted, anyone would dress up and try to look their best when about to meet a king, but postures and gestures spoke of people who were at home in these kinds of surroundings. They differed greatly in nationalities, however, and how they were dressed. There were even a few women, but most seemed either to be foreigners or just there to accompany their husbands. Slade nodded to himself. It was as he remembered it. Good.

He followed the prince who walked straight up the middle aisle to the partition where he stopped and bowed. The king nodded and gestured for him to come up to the throne and, as no one stopped him, Slade came along.

"I've heard stories about the hunting trip. You are the heir to the throne. You shouldn't have tried to be a hero."

"I only tried to save Lord Riley's life," the prince answered coldly. "Not to be an… _inconvenience_."

Slade almost held his breath. He didn't want the boy blowing up or spilling his plans now.

"Your country is more important than anything else," the monarch told his adoptive son sternly.

"Yes, Father," the prince simply replied. "Certainly more than a few measly human lives."

"I'm glad you understand. I hope you will focus on your studies now. You should spend more time with a book in hand instead of a sword or a pair of reins. It would do you good. Remember your _duty_."

"Yes, Sir. If you'll excuse me? I do not wish to take up your time any longer."

"You are free to go."

Slade found it almost painful to listen to their conversation. Blood or no blood, they were supposed to be father and son. Granted, Robin now knew about his real parents, but the king had no idea he did. Slade had always had an open and loving relationship with his sons. Of course, as they grew older and got more and more serious responsibilities it could not all be fun and games, but addressing his sons like this? No. They were his pride and joy. Thinking about them, and what acquiring Gotham would mean for their future, eased the thoughts of what he might have to do… in only two day's time.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: dun-dun-DUUNN! *lol* well, yes, it's getting closer. I'm on chapter 21, though, so I'm so far ahead right now… I have no idea what you are doing back here… ;) Soon the shit will hit the fan and I hope you will like the result… Um.. okay, that didn't sound right, but whatever… Check out my dA (link in my bio) for some 'art' from this story!


	16. No Hour of Life Is Wasted

A/N: thank you to **An Insane Nobody **for being my beta this time!

Today's title is a quote by Winston Churchill. I'll now shut up and let you read.

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 16: No Hour of Life Is Wasted That Is Spent In the Saddle**

After leaving the king's presence, Robin led Slade through a side door into the great ballroom. Large paintings adorned the walls, depicting the greatness of the Wayne dynasty, and comfortable seating arrangements were scattered around the room, as it wasn't used for dancing at the moment. There was a table with refreshments and servants had trays with drinks or little treats of different kinds, which never seemed to run out. This was the room where he had been fed grapes on one of his first days at the castle, and Slade rather hoped that the prince wouldn't treat him the same way now.

As soon as Robin entered the room, more or less everyone flocked to him.

"Your Highness! I heard you were hurt!" someone asked.

"Is it true what they say, did you kill a wild boar with your bare hands?" someone else wanted to know.

As the prince was more or less swallowed up by the crowd, Slade, even though he stayed close behind him, tuned out the chatter and looked around. There were more women here, but most of them seemed to keep to a separate part of the room. The man almost shook his head. He knew women could have a great influence behind the scenes, but to shut them off from _official_ power like this? It was a waste of resources. As he looked over toward that part of the room again, one woman seemed to notice and a ripple of giggles, hidden behind hand-fans, seemed to spread through the group. The man sighed. Maybe there just wasn't enough intelligence there to really _be_ of any use? He might have to leave that change for future generations.

Instead his eye strayed to the paintings, which were all neatly labeled with the name of the subject or subjects, the artist and the year. Most of them were portraits, some depicting only the face and some full length, all of the Wayne clan. He studied paintings of war either won gloriously by the family, or, in some cases, a member had _died_ gloriously in them. It didn't seem to matter much. It wasn't surprising that there were very few portraits of only women, although there were one or two to show off a young female Wayne's beauty before she was married off to some dignitary or other.

"My father says I should have a bodyguard like yours, how much does he cost?"

The question brought Slade's attention back from the art.

"He's not for sale," the prince answered with a laugh.

"I offer you one thousand!"

"Two thousand!" another voice countered.

Slade raised an eyebrow. That was quite a lot, and if the prince needed _anything _now it was money. However, he seemed to be worth more to the boy.

"As I said, he is_ not_ for sale," Robin immediately snapped back, his tone firmer now. "However…" he added, "if your own body guards need training, I see what I can set up. Not until later in the summer, though. I can guarantee that there is no better teacher than my slave."

This seemed to create an interest and Slade smirked. It was clever of the boy to tie people to him like this and, had Slade really been who he claimed to be, training other noble's personal guards would get the future ex-prince an extra income which he would sorely need.

The group, with Robin and Slade in the middle, didn't stay still. They slowly moved around the room as they ate, drank and gossiped. Eventually the prince sank down on a chaise longue, however, listening as Gordon and River retold the hunting story for probably the hundredth time. Slade, who had remained standing this time and hadn't been chastened for it, let his eye wander again. Behind this particular group of furniture hung a rather immense painting, depicting the first king and queen of the Wayne dynasty. To its left was one much more recent of the current king's parents. They had died when the king was rather young of some kind of illness, it was said. Slade had read about it in his own chronicles back in Blüdhaven and wondered at that… as far as he knew no one else had gotten sick, and he _did _suspect foul play. Not from the current king's side, surely, he was too young, but from someone else's. Suddenly Slade blinked. Maybe there was another, darker, reason for the king to hate spies? The country had been ruled by a council until Bruce had turned eighteen, and Slade couldn't see that anyone had really benefited from the former king's death in any exceptional way. Some families had grown in power, some had fallen behind, but no one had tried to take over the kingdom. Perhaps the real plan had failed. Maybe the council had been stronger and more loyal than the people behind it all had expected? Or the royal couple_ had_ actually died from a disease. The man shrugged, he doubted that he would ever know the truth.

He looked back towards the other painting again. It seemed to commemorate the first Wayne's engagement or wedding, as the woman's hand rested lightly in the open palm of her husband's. A depiction of that amount of bodily contact in this country would have been frowned upon outside of that context. Slade studied the other details of the painting, as they tended to be full of symbolism. The king stood on the edge of a dais, his queen on the floor below, showing that he must have had a higher status than her before the wedding. Then again, this was Gotham where women's statuses weren't higher than the men's anyway, so why had the painter felt the need to point that out? The styles of their clothes were similar, although the colors of them almost clashed. In fact, the color scheme in the portrait seemed to split down the middle, very subtly, leaving them on either side. Slade knew this was done when two large families joined, however, so it might have been in honor of the bride's heritage, to have her family's colors depicted.

Slade continued to study the piece. He was not very knowledgeable about symbolism in paintings and was sure he missed a lot of them, but he was bored. He could still pick out some obvious things like the woman's ermine collar, signifying purity, and the white dove she was holding in her free hand, which was surely a sign of either virginity or peace. Slade's eye narrowed. There was a smudge on the pigeon's breast, was that deliberate? It was brownish red, and reminded him a lot of blood… peace through a bloody war? Yes, that would make sense, he vaguely remembered that the Wayne's ascent to the throne had been a bloody one.

"Well, I think it is time to retire for the night," he heard the prince say and sighed in relief. Standing around in a room full of giggling people looking at paintings all night…? Not really his favorite pastime.

It took a while before the prince could tear himself away and by the time they got back to the young man's rooms Alfred was there, helping the boy with his evening procedure and informing him of tomorrow's duties. Slade, on the other hand, was eager to get back to the library. He waited until the valet had left, however.

"Master, I can see that you are tired. Would you mind if I went to see if I could find anything more of interest in the history books before going to bed?" he asked.

"Yes, I _would_ mind," the prince said firmly. "Because I want you right here with me tonight, Slade…" he added with a tiny little lisp that spoke of just a _bit_ too much wine.

Slade hesitated. He _wasn't _in the mood. He might have to_ kill_ the young man in two days, and not even_ he_ was coldhearted enough to feel aroused with that thought hanging over him. It had been different before there was a deadline and also in the very beginning until he got to know the boy. Now the thought made his stomach knot.

Robin didn't notice anything at first, and beckoned for the man to join him on the bed. Slade steeled himself. He would have to do it or the prince might suspect something or even punish him for disobedience. The man made sure to make it all about Robin's needs, though, and it wasn't until the boy, sweaty and satisfied, smiled and reached for Slade's groin, apparently intent on repaying the man, that he discovered the truth.

"You… you're not… erect?"

"It's nothing to worry about, I'm merely a bit tired, Master," Slade said, sitting up.

"But… you said it was a sign that you desired me? Don't you anymore? Do I smell? Is something _wrong_?" the prince asked and sat up as well, twisting the sheets in his hands nervously.

Slade turned towards him and tilted his head up. "Nothing is wrong," he said firmly and kissed the boy's forehead. "Sometimes men can't… perform. It happens more with age, and especially if the man is tired or has a headache," he added and the dry thought _'I can't believe I just used the headache excuse'_ fluttered through his mind.

"You have a headache? Do you need the physician?" By the prince's voice Slade could tell that he wasn't completely convinced that the fault wasn't his own.

"No, no, it's just been a long day and, please don't take this the wrong way Master, but listening to your friend's babbling all night…"

The boy then grinned. "I see, well that's understandable."

"Thank you, Master. Sleep well, now," Slade said, feeling relived, and made a move to get out of bed. As soon as the boy had fallen asleep maybe he could go back to the library. He had heard it was always open, after all, and it wasn't _that_ late.

"Come back here," the prince said, however, using all his strength to pull Slade back down once more. "You have a headache and need to rest, and I just want you close to me, so you're sleeping here tonight."

Two hours later, Slade gave up trying to sneak out of the room as the prince, who had finally nodded off, still had a firm grip on him, which tightened every time Slade moved. The man sighed and closed his eye. If the prince wanted to cause his own death by snuggling, there was nothing the man could do.

* * *

Slade was woken up by the feeling of fingers running through his hair lazily. He had a pretty good idea who those fingers belonged to and it wasn't Alfred.

"Awake so early, Master?" he asked as the light coming from outside the window was still very faint and had the pink tinge of sunrise.

"Hmmm…" Came a content sound from the prince's side. Slade rolled over to be met with a lazy smile. "Good morning," the boy mumbled.

"Good morning, Master. Are you ready to get up, or would you rather sleep for a while longer?"

"Hmm… sleep… but I also want to train… this early maybe the King won't even find out."

"Sunrise sword practice is almost becoming a routine," Slade chuckled and got up. "Well, we better move. I heard you had lessons and paperwork to do this morning."

"I do," the prince huffed and made a face as his feet touched the cold flagstone floor. "So we can only be away for a little while."

"How is your bruising?" the man asked as he hurriedly dressed himself and then went to help the prince.

"Oh, fine," the boy said, touching his chest. "It doesn't hurt when I take deep breaths anymore."

"Good, then we'll add some new techniques today," Slade decided, though he couldn't explain to himself why he would bother. Still, there was always a tiny chance that this wouldn't be the last time they trained, he supposed, so he hung onto that thought.

Again they managed to keep their schedule of one hour and Alfred had yet to arrive to wake the prince up when they returned to his rooms. Slade had pushed the boy even harder this time, and they were both in need of a wash, which Slade took care off. It wasn't a full bath this time as the prince wouldn't be able to soak for as long as he wanted anyway, but by the time the valet came through the door they were both clean and dressed.

"Been taking some exercise this morning, Your Highness?" Alfred asked.

"I have," the prince responded, in a somewhat defensive tone. "My father might feel it's a waste of time, but I do not."

"It certainly is not, you seem more healthy and energetic after you began training for your slave," the old man nodded approvingly.

Slade saw a smile flash across Robin's face.

Robin felt a burst of happiness when Alfred agreed with _him_ and not his father. Even though he liked his old valet, long before he knew that the man had actually saved his life as a baby, he had always felt like he was an extension of the king. That they were really the same person with the same opinions and that Alfred was only there to make sure Robin did what he was told. Having the old man side with _him_ for once, and openly too, felt… nice. Maybe it was part of growing up, though… people didn't take children's opinions seriously, after all, and he was soon to be a man-

"Are you even listening to me, my Lord?"

"Huh? What? I… pardon?" Robin blinked. His valet tsk-ed and started over again, telling him more in detail of the day's plan.

"Master, a word?"

Robin nodded at his slave, who kept his voice low.

"If you don't need me, I could finish the research in the library," the man said.

"I'm not sure historical examples will really be that necessary, and besides, we have a little over a month before my birthday…" Robin said dismissingly. As he was looking at the man he saw Slade's jaw tense at his answered, like the man was very displeased at hearing this. Robin was going to ask him about it when he realized the with him doing paperwork and having lessons this morning, Slade would just be standing around, anyway. Maybe he thought that would be boring? Now, Robin couldn't take that into account normally, it wasn't his job to entertain his slave, but as the research was there to do and the man seemed to enjoy it… "Very well, go, but be back here after lunch."

Slade didn't know what had made the boy change his mind, but he almost gave a sigh of relief. "Yes, Master," he bowed.

With so little time, the pile of thick books and occasional scrolls, became even more frustrating to go though. The fact that he had to focus on research for the prince as well didn't make things better, but if he had to find some new facts by lunch or Robin would wonder what he had been doing all morning. At least the subjects tied in with each other. When he had researched the laws regarding succession and abdication he hadn't been able to find anything that would be quick enough and, of course, there couldn't be anything that would be official by tomorrow. Maybe there were historical examples though, of princes being denied the throne by a single order from the king. Slade had no idea how he could make something like that happen, or if he would even dare to… He couldn't put the boy before his plans, he was very clear on that, but it only made him angry. He was a_ king_, damn it, who should get his way if not him?

He worked strategically, reading about how each king in the country's history had ascended the throne. Only the Wayne clan had ruled for three hundred years, though, and there had been many families before them. Unfortunately no one had conveniently written a book entitled "How The Kings Became Kings" and there were usually no indexes of any kind. Some books dealt with a long time period without giving any in-depth information at all, some were _very_ in-depth but turned out to focus on things like the use of wool in the royal household, which Slade didn't really think was helpful.

Eventually, instead of trying to find all his answers in just a few books, he began searching for volumes about each king. Even these were frustrating, though, as some consisted of only letters, others merely talked about the great things the king in questioned had achieved, and there were also gaps in the time line. Some kings had not ruled for long, but these were even more interesting to Slade, because what had made them give up the throne and how? When he eventually found the answers though, it usually turned out to be something like 'sudden death by ax'. In one case the king was claimed to have gone insane, but Slade doubted he would be able to convince the court that the prince was crazy in just a little over twenty four hours. But he might turn out that way himself…

He was astonished at what the writers of history found interesting… the amount of children a king had could be brushed over, at least as soon as he had a heir or two, but there were very detailed descriptions of feasts, naming the amount of pigs, chickens and oxen who had been slaughtered in detail. Some greater historical events were not even mentioned as if the man writing this down had decided that 'people would remember that anyway', and then he had went on and on about a hunt or a story about a large fish washing up on a shore which the king of the time had inspected.

"Anything interesting?"

Slade's head shot up and there was the prince next to his desk. His gaze immediately swiveled to the huge grandfather clock standing against the wall by the door to see if he had missed his deadline.

"Yes, some, Master," he said as he rose. "Is it already lunch? That clock-"

"No, I finished up early," Robin shrugged. "I thought I might as well help."

"Yes, if you could-" Slade began but then the prince continued.

"But I'm already bored with reading today… and I got a big assignment to do as well. Let's have the kitchen pack a lunch for us and go out riding!"

Slade wanted to groan in frustration and run to the king, telling on the boy so he was made to stay put.

"Sounds lovely, but don't you think-"

"No. Come," Robin ordered, and he was clearly not to be contradicted.

"But I have to put all the books back-" Slade tried, to just get a little more time.

"That's what the staff is for," the prince shrugged. "Hurry up and go tell the kitchen. I will have Alfred help me get changed and I'll meet you in front of the stables in half an hour."

"Yes, Master," Slade answered and, thankfully, the boy turned and left the library immediately afterwards. Still, if the kitchen was going to have time to pack a lunch he couldn't go back to reading. He picked up a thick tome simply marked "Wayne", rolled up the notes he had made, and brought the book over to the librarian.

"The prince has ordered me away, but I would like to borrow this book in his name," Slade told the little man. The librarian took his good time writing the details down, but then it was Slade's to take. He didn't know if it would be useful as he hadn't gotten around to it yet, but it had been one of the few that wasn't marked with red, and that he was therefore _allowed_ to borrow.

He hurried down to the kitchen and managed to reach the stable at the same time as the prince. As they were going riding, the lunch had been packed in a birch bark basket that could be slung across the back like a knapsack. Slade had swiped a towel from the kitchen and wrapped the book he had borrowed in it, before putting it into the basket as well.

The boy put his riding boots on while the horses were being saddled, and also exchanged a few words with the Stable Master. The man had no news about the mare Robin hoped would be pregnant, as it was still much too soon to tell, but he was carefully optimistic.

After trotting for a while to warm up the horses, Robin grinned over his shoulder and kicked his into a gallop. Slade followed suit, the basket firmly secured on his back, and tried to enjoy the ride. They didn't go far, because there was simply no time. The prince had other duties in his throne room in the afternoon and needed to presentable by that time. Robin led them to a group of low bushes that, as long as they sat down, would hide them from the path and protect them from the wind which was quite chilly today.

As they didn't have a blanket, a small oversight perhaps, Slade took off his jacket and let the prince use that. Any stains wouldn't show up as much on his own black breeches, but the prince wore light ones as usual. He unpacked the food and served the young man a large piece of meat pie. The kitchen had thankfully remembered to pack everything they needed including tin plates and cups as glass and porcelain of course would be a bad idea. Slade served his 'owner' wine from a well wrapped clay bottle and poured a slightly larger serving for himself. He felt like he needed it.

"What's this?" the prince asked and picked up the book, removing the towel.

"I thought it was interesting, so I borrowed it," Slade said.

"Well, no Wayne has ever abdicated without an heir… actually, the only one who has was the man who went blind, if you remember? I think that was the from the third generation… wait… fourth? I'm not sure."

Slade wanted to kick himself for not simply_ asking_ the prince which dynasties to research. He had spent a lot of time on the Wayne's after all, thinking that the more recent the case was, the better.

"I see. Well, I should learn a bit more about your family anyway," the man said as there still might be something in there that would be useful for him, even though he doubted it.

"Yes, why not… even though it won't be my family for that much longer… never hurts to know your new country's history."

"Yes, I thought so too, Master. I wonder if I shouldn't return after lunch, though, to-"

"No, I want you with me in the throne room… something to distract me from the boredom…" the prince smiled.

Slade sighed. The young man just seemed _intent _on dying tomorrow.

They ate in silence. It was amiable from the prince's side, and somewhat irritated from Slade's. He found himself wishing that he could simply _tell _the boy, but of course he couldn't. Not only didn't he have a way out to present to him, he also knew that Robin might be ready to give up his title but that didn't mean he was ready to give up on his country. Gotham in the claws of Blüdhaven would not be easy to accept for the boy, royalty or not. Besides, Slade didn't want him to know anything until the very last moment. It was better that way. He briefly remembered the empty, dead eyes from his dream.

"Let's go home, you're cold," Robin said, standing up from the man's coat.

"Hm?" Slade said, looking up at him after being woken from his thoughts.

"You shivered. Pack up and I'll see to the horses," the prince ordered, and the man began collecting the plates and cups, putting them back in the basket.

The afternoon passed agonizingly slowly for Slade, kneeling next to the prince's throne. He was burning with a need to _do_ something,_ anything_. He had a problem to solve and he was kept from doing it. The whole situation was extremely frustrating for the man, and it didn't get better as he had to listen to the kinds of cases which were presented to the prince. He understood that the boy wasn't an legal adult in the eyes of this country, but couldn't he be given something more important to do than greet the captain of a barge who was shipping fabrics from Metropolis?

When the afternoon was finally over the prince chose to have his dinner in his rooms and then he began working on his studies. Slade felt uneasy about the boy spending the last night of his life with his nose in a book, but could hardly suggest something else. He didn't know how to present the idea of getting drunk, hitting Bryant in the face and possibly get laid, but that was the kind of last night the prince deserved.

Slade had been allowed to take a seat in the study as well and had fetched the book from the library, almost snorting at his own feeble hopes. It was a bit hard to concentrate, however, as the boy seemed to want to discuss every part of his assignment with him and also complain quite a bit in between.

"I don't really see why the rise in the production of wool verses crops has anything to do with me? Can't the farmers just do what they want?"

"Mostly I'm sure they _do_, Master," Slade answered patiently, "but if there is a call for one and not the other the crown might encourage the production in different ways."

"Like how?"

"Am I about to answer a question in your assignment?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

The prince looked a bit ashamed of himself. "Yes."

"I think you are supposed to figure that out by yourself."

"I think you are my slave and should answer your owner," the prince sniffed, but it was clear that he wasn't serious. "Very well… I guess I have to read this…"

"Good luck, Master," Slade chuckled and returned to his own book. It was a fairly new one, even the current king's parents were mentioned, but not their death, so it was probably from when they were still alive. Slade scanned another page quickly. Yes, no mention of a child of theirs yet, so before Bruce had been born, then. The book was written in a somewhat strange fashion, as it started with the most recent king, and worked its way back. The handwriting in it was meticulous, and bound with the text were printed etchings, portraits of the royalty. They were not colored, and some were quite simple, but as the book as a whole was so elaborate, Slade was rather sure it had been ordered by the royal family themselves.

"Slade, you don't have a headache tonight, do you?" the prince suddenly asked.

Again, the man was not in the mood, but didn't have a choice.

"No, Master," he said. "But are you finished already?"

"No… just trying to think of more fun things."

"_You_ study, and _I'll_ think of a few things to do. I promise it will be worth it." The man forced himself to smile.

"Well, _that _is motivating," the boy smiled back and then began writing again, something that was interrupted by sighs and mutters.

Slade returned to the book and turned page after page. He was really only looking for when the crown changed hands… or was that heads? Unfortunately this book didn't have an index either, and new chapters didn't really stand out as each page was very ornate. He learned to look for the etchings, however, because, with a few exceptions, they tended to illustrate each new generation of ruler. This way the search went faster and Slade found himself flicking through the pages, stopping at every image.

"You're a fast reader," Robin commented wryly.

"I'm just looking at the portraits right now, Master," the man admitted.

"And you accuse _me _of cheating?" the boy smirked. "Just a little longer now, and then we can go to the bedroom. Did I say that I let Alfred have the night off?"

"No, Master, but that was very convenient," Slade said and again forced a grin onto his lips.

As silence fell again, Slade flipped through the very last part of the book. He came across an etching of the portrait he had studied last night. As it was such a small replica of an enormous painting it had been simplified, but that smudge on the dove's breast was still there. That must mean it was important, and Slade began reading out of curiosity for what it might symbolize. After all, the Wayne's had taken over Gotham as he planned to do tomorrow. They had apparently come from a country that was now part of the south of Gotham. Three hundred years ago, this country had been little more than what the capital city now covered, surrounded by other small kingdoms. But it had had grown under the Wayne dynasty, until it spread to the borders of Blüdhaven and got no further. Greed and pride had led to a long and bloody war ending only about three generations back and that was part of the reason Slade had decided to risk his own life trying to take over Gotham like this, when he realized what it would mean for Blüdhaven's future. He didn't want a long and bloody war, but if he failed tomorrow, that was what his sons would have on their hands. Meaning he_ couldn't_ fail.

His eye finally found a mention about the couple in the portrait and, for a moment, he forgot to breathe. He glanced up at the prince like the boy would have been able to read his thoughts. It almost seemed like he had because he looked up at that moment to.

"There. I'm done. I want my reward."

"Yes, Master," Slade answered automatically, put the book down and got to his feet.

He was slower at the start than usual, but when the prince's hands and, right after, his lips closed around Slade's shaft, it hardened on command. As once before they used the oil and the friction between the prince's things to simulate Slade actually mounting the boy and, as before, Robin seemed to enjoy this immensely. The man himself felt like his mind was scattered and it still was about an hour later, when Slade found himself standing beside the large bed, looking down on the face of the sleeping prince.

It was a risk. It might not work. The question was if it was worth it, if this _boy_ was worth it? And who would pay the highest price if it _did_ work, Slade or the prince? The man didn't know; it felt like an impossible choice. On one hand the prince's death, paired with the king's of course, was an absolute _certain_ success. The laws were clear, nothing and no one could stand in his way of the throne. The other way… Slade didn't know enough Gotham law to be certain, and again, did he really_ want_ to do this?

The prince mumbled something in his sleep. Slade took last, long look at him and then left the room, heading towards the prince's study. He had a lot to do.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: Next week, people… next week… ;)


	17. Fear the Goat From the Front

A/N: Thank you to **Higashisaru **who was mybeta this time.

And yes, THIS IS EARLY! A day early, in fact, or rather like… 19-20 hours early… ;) The reason? I know you have been waiting for it! I DO have a schedule to keep (and my betas have a week to finish each chapter), so expect most future chapters on Sundays as usual, but I made an exception here… and if you liked that, please read the bottom A/N!

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 17: Fear the Goat From the Front, the Horse From the Rear, and Man From All Sides**

Slade found everything he needed in the study and he set to work while trying to think through all the things that might possibly go wrong. He completely disregarded the prince's views on this, however; the boy would have no choice in the matter. Well… he _would_, but Slade doubted he would take it.

He worked for hours and after burning quite a few attempts he finally sealed the finished product and, quietly, returned to the bedroom, hiding it among his clothes. He then lay down on his cot and closed his eye. He wouldn't get many hours of sleep, but it would have to be enough.

He awoke to the sound of the door opening as Alfred came in to wake the prince up. As usual Slade quickly dressed and took care of his morning absolutions while Alfred went through the routine with the prince. Slade was sent down to the kitchen for breakfast and kept his eye and ears open for any sign that the routine of the castle for some reason would change today. There was no gossip of special guests or events happening, however, which made him relax a tiny bit. He saw a glimpse of one of his own men on the way back. They were already arriving to be able to blend in and take up their positions. With only fifty men in total and the need to temporarily seal off and hold a part of the castle, every soldier counted.

By the end of the day Slade hoped that very little blood would have been spilled. He didn't want his men to show mercy if it meant risking the mission, of course, but he _didn't_ want a battle for the castle either. He could have brought more men. He could have invaded with thousands, but this was what he had decided to do and for good reasons. It was a gamble, yes, but if it worked it would be quicker, and he wouldn't alienate the population of Gotham who would have been forced out into battle with an open attack. It could still lead to that, though. The rules were very clear; it wasn't simply a matter of stating his intent and then jump out from around a corner and stab the king in the back. Simplified one ruler of a kingdom had to defeat the other to rightfully and immediately win his crown, but that didn't mean the attacked ruler didn't have options as well. After all, if there hadn't been carefully constructed codes of conduct kingdoms would have changed rulers every other month. As it was, few kings were willing to risk their own country nowadays. The generations of warrior kings was mostly over after countries had merged together and expanded to often natural, defendable borders. Commerce and peace usually brought more prosperity than war, after all.

If Slade failed, if he died in battle today, that didn't automatically mean that Blüdhaven would befall Gotham, but the law was on Gotham's side if they wanted to retaliate. They could call to battle and have complete control of when and where, and that battle would decide the mountain kingdom's future. Blüdhaven had good soldiers; professionals not farmers, but Gotham had many times more people. Farmers most of them might be, but there might be as many as twenty farmhands against one soldier in a battlefield they hadn't chosen themselves. It could only end in disaster.

Slade knew every intricate part of the international war laws, but that didn't mean that he knew what would happen today. He didn't even know if he would be able to keep Robin alive, but he had to push all those thoughts aside. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

* * *

"I really don't want to do this." The one who was complaining was Robin, as he was leading the way to his throne room. "A whole _day_ in there? Someone kill me…"

"Be careful what you wish for," Slade mumbled as he followed at the boy's heels. The fact that the prince would stay put in one place was perfect for him. The royal heir's throne room wasn't in a very busy part of the castle, and well set away from the main one. It was still guarded, of course, and had a waiting area outside for those with appointments, but it was not a spot for social gatherings. Only those having business with the prince would pass through there.

"What did you say?" the boy asked, looking back at him.

"Oh, just that it's better to get it out of the way," Slade bluffed.

"Yes, I guess… Oh, look! That's rare!"

"What?" Slade said and followed the young man's line of vision. A group of men in dark red foot-long robes with deep hoods covering their faces were slowly making their way down the hall.

"You know who those are?" the price asked.

"No, Master."

"They are part of the old Brotherhood of Steel. They aren't seen often, but they go on 'holy journeys' now and then… and they always stop here and insist on blessing the king and the court… they are going to have to wait a long time today."

"Is His Majesty not a very religious person?" Slade smirked.

"Not overly so, no… everything even slightly more important will be moved ahead of them today. Urgh, I hope_ I_ don't have to meet them too… they always creep me out. Let's go before one of them spots us."

Slade was happy to oblige. It was almost ten in the morning and he could feel the tension building inside him.

Robin's first meeting of the day turned out to be from Steel, but it was the ambassador.

"Lord DiMaggio, what can I do for you today?" the prince asked politely.

"Nothing at all, My Lord, I just wanted to inform you that I'm leaving for a little while. I just received word from my wife and daughters, they are waiting for me at the border and I'm going to escort them here."

"Well, that's good news, then will you return?" the prince asked, actually very curious about meeting the girl he might marry.

"In a week, I think, My Lord. I hope we will all be able to have dinner at some point after that?"

"Of course, I'm looking forward to it. Send my regards to your wife and daughters. Are you leaving today?"

"At once actually, my carriage is waiting for me outside. I just didn't want to leave without bidding farewell."

"Of course. I wish you a safe trip, then, Ambassador," the prince nodded.

Slade didn't pay much attention to the conversation or any of the ones that followed. He used the time kneeling next to the throne to get ready, steeling himself for what might have to be done today, while the prince's fingers only seldom left his hair. When the clock struck half past eleven Slade shifted. An excuse to leave the prince's side had to be good but, fortunately, there was a universal one that could never be denied.

"Master?" Slade mumbled just as Robin dismissed his latest visitor.

"Yes?"

"It seems…" the man made an embarrassed face, "it seems my breakfast doesn't agree with me…"

"Oh? Oh! You need to leave?"

"Yes. Promptly."

"Then do. And if you need some rest afterwards, go back to my rooms." The prince's expression was a mix of a little embarrassment but also understanding. There was even some worry in his eyes, which steeled the man's resolve to do everything possible to spare his life.

* * *

Slade hurried towards the stable without trying to look like he did. He had already been to the prince's room and retrieved his specially made longsword. He carried it, still dismantled of course, under his arm wrapped in some clothes as if he was taking dirty laundry to be cleaned. He wasn't neurotic enough to feel people's eyes on him, but he was very conscious of his surroundings. So far, however, everything seemed normal.

The yard in front of the stable was calm, as he knew it would be. As he had explored the castle he had made sure to find out as much about the worker's routines as the guards', and by now all the feeding and mucking out was over with. There would be people here, yes, but many of the grooms would be in the kitchen for lunch and a bit of a rest before the evening chores.

No one spotted him as he made it to the small door leading out to the dung heaps. He slid the bar aside and knocked three times. After a short wait, William came through, alone, carrying a large pile that looked very innocent but was far from that.

"Come," Slade said in a low tone and led the man inside. "The prince is in his throne room, and is supposed to stay there the whole day, including through lunch," Slade informed his friend. "I don't want him brought to us until after we know how the challenge goes."

"As you're not sobbing from a broken heart I assume you've found a way to save him?"

"You're asking to be stabbed in the back by accident," Slade snorted as they entered a door used only by the staff. "But yes. Maybe. So keep him alive and unharmed, if possible."

"I'll let the men on prince-duty know," Wintergreen chuckled quietly.

They had reached a part of the castle which was mostly storage rooms. Slade had found a small one that only contained holiday decorations like tapestries, tablecloths and ornaments. It was very unlikely that anyone would need anything from that room at this moment and, after making quick work of the lock, they slipped inside.

Wintergreen unpacked what he had brought and Slade quickly changed, making sure he still had the document he had written that night securely tucked away. His closest man had brought his armor and helmet, true it was only his light armor, not a full one, but it would do. The chest plate was adorned with his coat of arms and the helmet itself would make him recognizable to most, even if they only knew a tiny bit about the mysterious country of Blüdhaven.

Wintergreen put on his armor and helmet as well, and then he handed Slade one of the things it had all been wrapped in: a dark red robe.

"I guess it's time, Your Majesty," the man said solemnly as they had put the robes on, hiding their armor. Slade's gauntlets were wrapped up in the clothes like the sword had been, but neatly this time, so the parcel looked like a gift.

"Yes." The longsword was too cumbersome to easily hide under the robes in its assembled form, so it was still in three pieces, attached to his belt. He felt them now to make sure they wouldn't clink together, and then he nodded and raised his cowl. It wasn't far from here to the more public areas, and, as planned, the group that would join them, ten men, were waiting for them there, pretending to have a discussion in low voices right in front of the entrance Slade and Wintergreen slipped through. The two easily mingled with them, and then they all headed towards the throne room.

Slade had found out that the king usually was in attendance until one in the afternoon and then, after lunch, he spent a few hours more there, at least most days, before withdrawing to his study or his own hobbies. Now, there could always be changes, which meant that their plans had to be changed accordingly, but as Rowan would deliver the declaration at noon, in only a few minutes, the king would be called to the throne room sooner or later.

As it turned out, he was already there. Slade told the clerk at the door, speaking only in a whisper as these monks did and using a heavy, barely understandable accent, that they were there to bless His Royal Highness. The clerk gave them almost a tired look and gestured for them to wait with the rest of the dignitaries in the room. The nobles pulled away slightly from the group and didn't try to engage any of them in conversation, just as Slade had hoped. The Brotherhood of Steel didn't have a bad reputation, the monks lived quiet lives and seldom socialized with people outside their order, but people tended to leave monks and other strangely over-religious types alone, so they were more or less ignored.

Slade listened as Wintergreen quietly instructed the soldiers who were going to get Robin when the time was right. The rest of his men should now have taken key positions, some mixing with the real guards, some keeping a low profile in rarely used rooms and corridors. Slade had informed Wintergreen where the night guards slept and where their armor was kept, so many of his soldiers should now be dressed as Gotham Castle guards. They were instructed to tell anyone that asked that they had been sent early from the First Regiment of Fort Kane, just as he had overheard Alfred suggest to the prince when they were talking about the extra security for his birthday. It was a bit early for them to arrive, but claiming that they had been close by on a maneuver would explain that. Also the name of Captain Sinclair had been given to them to use. Slade had learned that the Captain spent most of his time in his office and usually had his lunch in there as well. If the Blüdhaven soldiers were still questioned they had been told to deal with it as quietly and efficiently as possible. The guards outside the prince's throne room and this one as well, should be replaced at this very moment, as the clock stuck twelve, signaling the end of the morning's guard-shift.

They waited, patiently and five minutes past twelve the doors opened and four guards with very worried looks on their faces escorted the Blüdhaven soldier named Rowan in. The man still had bandages around one of his hands, the reason he had been given this 'honor', which he didn't look too pleased with. His position guaranteed his safety, as he was the messenger and protected by law, but he wasn't allowed to join the fight either, which he had most likely been teased mercilessly about.

The guards marched straight up to the King's valet, bypassing the clerks at the door, who tried to call them back. Slade and his men subtly drew closer to the king with the exception of four: two positioned themselves near the main entry, and two near the door leading to the ballroom.

"What is this?" Slade heard the valet ask sharply, but as one of the guards explained the errand quietly the man paled and hurried over to the king, whispering to him. Rowan waited until he had gained the king's attention but no longer than that. They didn't want to risk that the man would order the room to empty. Both native and foreign dignitaries were present and would be needed as witnesses.

"Are you King Bruce Wayne the first, Ruler of the Kingdom of Gotham?" Rowan asked loudly.

"I am," the king answered as he was compelled to do.

"My King, Deathstroke of Blüdhaven, hereby sends his regards and, through these declarations…" the man handed a thick folder, sealed with the Blüdhaven crest in orange wax, to the magistrate who was still standing at his desk inside the partition. It was a different man today, Slade noticed, but he looked equally old. This one had a long beard, though. "My King calls on the Laws of War for the right to take this country for himself by the Rights of Royal Blood."

The room had been whispering, but now almost exploded in gasps and shocked murmur.

"I, King of Gotham, by the Laws of War am bound to accept. I will read his declamation and send him my reply."

"That won't be necessary," Slade said. As one they all shed their robes, and some of the murmurs turned into screams of panic. Slade raised his hand. "I declare this room, and everyone in it safe, apart from myself and the King of Gotham. No one will be hurt as long as you stay calm. Now, move towards the walls." Slade had his black and orange visor down, making his voice sound even darker, and with the help of his men the main part of the floor was soon cleared. In the meanwhile the doors were locked and guarded. No one would be able to come in or leave without permission.

"Deathstroke… this is unusual. Neutral ground is mostly used in these situations," Bruce said. Slade had to admit that the man acted very composed for a situation like this. "I assume you are aware of the rules?"

"Very. But I thought I'd save time. The place is not up to the challenged king by law, merely tradition."

Bruce looked over at his magistrate, who nodded. "He is right, Your Majesty," the old man mumbled. "It is but a… custom."

"As the challenged monarch I still get to decide _how_," the ruler of Gotham said between clenched teeth.

"Indeed you do," Slade said lazily. His tone was deceptive, though, because in reality he was choosing his words very carefully. "You have two choices according to the law. Battle or duel. Only one is honorable in my opinion, but if you wish to try to hide behind your people, be my guest. A word from me and soon a flag will be raised from atop the walls of this castle, signaling my army to be ready."

"You can't possibly have an army!" the other king sneered. "How would it get so close to the city without being spotted?"

Slade, of course, _didn't _have an army, not that close anyway, but it was part of the bluff. "There are forces within this country who are not happy with their leader," Slade smirked behind his visor. "If you would, gentlemen?"

The men in question, who had been told to be here, clearly would have liked to stay anonymous, but for the bluff to seem real their names had to be exposed. They both stepped forward facing their king.

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Duke Blackgate. Duke Sprang River."

"The very same. Their duchies forms a path from the mountains to this city, and they agreed to look the other way as my men, disguised as merchants and farmers, travelled in small groups through their land, to hide in the private property of Blackgate forest, a mere hour's march away, by foot. And my men are not on foot."

"You are hereby sentenced to death for treason to the crown!" the king roared at his dukes, seemingly losing control for the first time.

"Providing the country will belong to the same king at nightfall, yes," Slade smirked, knowing the two traitors now were bound to follow through on their promises of support. "So… will you prove yourself a weak king as these men say you are? Will you hide behind the slaughtered bodies of farm boys until I finally reach you? How much does this country really mean to you?"

"Enough!" Bruce snapped. "You'll get your wish, Deathstroke, a duel it is. But I won't fight a man who hides his face from me. Such a man has no business calling another man coward."

"Very well." Slade raised the visor, so Bruce could see the smirk playing on his lips.

"…_YOU_?!" Not only the king had recognized him, there were several gasps around the room. The Dukes, however, already knew.

"Yes."

"My son's _pleasure slave_?"

"Well, yes, I needed something to do while I waited for my army to arrive," Slade shrugged.

"I assume he's dead by now, then?" Bruce asked, the only emotion in his voce being anger.

"Of course he is not. Executions require witnesses and to kill the boy before the challenge had been declared? I have more honor than that. He will be brought here shortly, however. Now…" Slade removed the pieces of his sword and as the crowed murmured in wonder, he joined them together with them a few clicks. "I think it is time for that duel."

"Fetch my sword and armor," Bruce told his valet.

Once of Slade's soldiers immediately stepped forward, ready for the mission they had known would come.

"Go with him," Slade ordered the man, nodding at the valet, "If he tries to draw attention to the situation, kill him." The order was more for the valet's benefit than the soldier's, and it seemed to sink in.

Slade liked the situation so far, things were going his way. Everything seemed calm, considering, and before the valet returned the magistrate had confirmed that the papers handed to him, which included documents to prove Slade's identity and rank as king, were genuine.

Not much later the two kings stood facing each other in the middle of the throne room. Bruce's armor was thicker and covered more of his body than Slade's. He was also wielding his favorite weapon: the rapier. This particular sword was double edged, but the long thin blade wasn't a cutting weapon; it was made for thrusting. Slade's longsword, however, was the opposite. Though double edged as well, it was meant to be held in a two handed grip and to chop more than stab. In reality the two weapons were ill matched and the thick plate armor Bruce was wearing would also be a problem for Slade's sword. Armor like that could damage the best of blades and the northern king's was weakened somewhat due to its construction. Still, Slade had known what type of weapon the other man preferred and the longsword was still his choice. Two-handed it might be, but he was strong enough to hold it in only one hand when he needed to, increasing his reach. He was careful not to give that away too early, however. He gave the other king one last smirk before lowering his visor.

"May no one in this room lend hand or weapon to the combatants. As by the Laws of War, this official duel is to the death, and you are all witnesses. May the true king win. Begin!" the frail, nervous voice of the magistrate said, officially starting the duel.

Slade's hands, protected by intricate gauntlets of the finest Blüdhaven steel, tightened the grip around the simple, cross-shaped hilt. He decided to watch, for now, waiting for the man to take one of the show-fighting stances, but he was surprised as the Gotham king lunged forward instead. Slade whipped his blade up just in time to deflect the thrust and then the fight started in honest.

Robin had mentioned, during one of their practice sessions, that the king joined in tournaments and games, but Slade had doubted the man could actually _fight_. He had been wrong. The rapier danced in the air, though no movement was superfluous, and suddenly he had drawn first blood. Slade grimaced. He had almost managed to avoid the stab aimed at his upper left arm but not quite. It was only a small cut, but it did its job… although not as Bruce might have wished. The northern king went from trying to figure out the other man's fighting style, to simply try to kill him.

"You two, go get the prince. It's almost time," Wintergreen, who had seen the change, told two of the soldiers, who bowed and left.

* * *

Robin had just finished his lunch, wondering if he should send someone to check on Slade and was mentally preparing himself for an equally boring afternoon when the doors to the throne room swung open. The guard right inside, who was mainly there to open and close the door for guests, jumped into action but hesitated as the men walking in were wearing Gotham colors. He was felled with a blow to the head by the butt of a sword before Robin could even as much as open his mouth.

"What is this?!" Alfred had shot to his feet but the men barely gave him a glance as they closed in on Robin.

The young man suddenly realized that he didn't recognize these faces, that they were _not _his guards, and at the same time he realized that he was unarmed. He sometimes carried his new sword, mostly as decoration, but he couldn't wear it while sitting on his throne. He still got to his feet, though, and went into a defensive position Slade had taught him. Speaking of his slave, he wished the man was here now, _with_ diarrhea or _not_.

"Prince Robin, come with us," one of the men said.

"You didn't say please," the prince growled and let his foot shoot out, kicking the man in the gut as hard as he could. It wasn't something he had been taught, it was instinct, and it worked. But only briefly.

It didn't take long before he had been wrestled to the ground and the cold tip of a sword was tickling his throat. "We have orders not to harm you, unless necessary," one of the fake guards said. His voice wasn't taunting, he sounded like a man just doing his job, and a quite boring one at that. "We were also told not to harm your valet…" the 'but' was left hanging in the air, but Robin caught on.

"Fine. Let me up. And if this is a kidnapping, you'll never get out of this castle alive! My bodyguard-"

"That's enough. Both of you will stay quiet or we will have to makes sure you do. Come."

Both the prince and the valet were marched out of the throne room and, to Robin's surprise, further into the castle. He considered calling out for help but then noticed that none of the guards they passed were people he knew. What was going on?

He was worried, scared even, but he kept his head high and his expression stony. It was hard to hide his astonishment when they stopped outside the throne room, however. For a split second Robin wondered if this was all a setup… a surprise? Some kind of early birthday celebration? Maybe even for saving Riley's life? Now, Robin had denied that; he was sure the noble would have survived long enough to be saved by someone else, but after all that attention and hero worshipping the other night…?

But when the doors opened it was pretty clear that there was no surprise party going on. The scene was so baffling, however, that Robin could only stare silently at first. He saw how Alfred got pushed towards a group of what looked like the normal throne room crowd, guards- no, _soldiers_, because these didn't wear Gotham colors, guarding them carefully. Robin himself was held by the sturdy fake guards in a firm grip, but all his attention was on the two men fighting in front of him.

"Father?" He didn't yell, but as there was a lull in the fighting noises at that moment and the rest of the room was deadly quite, his voice carried.

His father however, didn't as much as glance in his direction. The other man, who has had his back to the door since they came in, seemed to cock his head a little bit, and immediately the king struck, taking advantage of the loss of attention. The stranger grunted as the tip of the king's blade found an unprotected gap close to his shoulder but slammed it away before it could sink in deeper.

Robin tried to take a step forward, to help his father, but only then really noticed the hands that held him. He stilled. He wished he could struggle, stomp on their feet, kick, but that was _not_ how a prince acted. If he had thought he had a real chance of getting away, then _maybe_, but he was surrounded and he had a feeling these men wouldn't let go even if he managed to _break _their toes. He would only look foolish. The king would disapprove.

"I demand to know what is going on here!" he said instead.

"His Majesty Deathstroke, king of Blüdhaven, has issued the challenge of Royal Blood."

"The War Law?" Robin gaped. "Blüdhaven?" he added when that sank in. As the fighters circled each other he saw the crest on the foreign king's breastplate, however, and recognized it. But there was something _else_ he recognized. The stance, the attack pattern… even with a different type of sword, there were still similarities. And then he saw that the black side of the visor didn't even have the tiniest eye slit.

"Slade?!" His voice was louder this time, his shock and disbelief simply too overwhelming. Again the man in the orange and black seemed to at least take notice of him, even though he didn't hesitate as he aimed strike after strike at the Gotham King. Bruce had a sword that couldn't possibly parry the power of the longsword, even though it was quicker. His armor stood the test, however, but they also made him somewhat slower than he would have been otherwise.

Robin watched with a growing sense of dread and then his father made a mistake. It was such a tiny, tiny mistake, but Robin saw it. And so, of course, did Slade. Going for all or nothing his grip changed from two-handed to one-handed in a flash, giving him more reach than the Gotham King expected and with all his strength he swung the sword into Bruce's side. The blade found its target cutting deep into the flesh and before the dark-haired king had had a chance to draw back Slade swung again, this time thrusting his sword straight into the other' man's chest plate. The longsword split apart, but not before the edge had been driven deep into the other man's upper body by the sheer force.

"NO! _Father_!"

Slade looked up from his fallen opponent who was dying at his feet and saw the prince's stricken face from across the room. He felt strangely annoyed and almost chuckled when he figured out why; Robin hadn't cheered for _him_. He shook off that feeling. _Of course_ the boy wouldn't cheer for him, the idea was preposterous, no matter how Robin felt towards Bruce the man was still his father, and, maybe more importantly, his king. Also, he must know what his death meant for _him_. That realization seemed to hit the prince at that moment too, as his eyes were torn away from his father's body and turned to Slade instead. There was fear there, anger, sorrow… but the most prominent emotion was… betrayal.

Slade almost shivered at how much this reminded him of his dream, as he slowly made it over to the prince. The soldiers holding him kicked the back of the boy's knees as their king approached, making him kneel, and the dream got even more real.

"Magistrate!" Slade ordered. "Examine your former king. The law requires his death to be beyond doubt and I call on you as first witness."

The old man did his duty and then hung his head. "King Bruce the First of Gotham is dead," he declared. Many of the witnesses in the room burst out sobbing, more from shock and fear for their own lives than actual grief, Slade suspected.

"Then I, Slade Wilson, King Deathstroke of Blüdhaven, declare the Kingdom of Gotham to now be under my rule."

"You can't do that, the prince is still alive!" someone spoke up. It was the Duke of Blackgate. Slade raised his visor and gave him a cold look.

"I am aware of the War Laws," he said dryly. He had his sword in hand. Even though the first couple of inches of it was still embedded in Bruce's chest it was still more than long enough to do the job if need be.

* * *

Robin knew he was going to die, that he only had moments left to live, and as suffocating as the fear was, the anger raging inside him fought it every step of the way. Slade… _his _Slade… who had trained him, and held him… and_ kissed_ him. Those kisses… and it was all a_ lie_. The man had been there to kill him from the very start. He had _pretended_ to care, _pretended _to be his… _friend_. In reality Robin was as lonely as ever. Though not quite. He found Alfred's face in the crowd and the old man was openly crying, tears streaming down his face, a look of grief in his eyes. He was trying to reach him, but was held back by the soldiers. Robin managed the smallest of brave smiles in his direction before craning his head back to look up at Slade once more. He had never hated anyone more.

* * *

Slade raised his hand and unstrapped one side of his chest plate so he could reach inside and withdraw the most important document in the room.

"Yes, as I said, I have studied the laws. I've also studied the history of this country. The first queen of the Wayne dynasty was the youngest daughter of the former king. This document is a bond, signed by me, that states my intention to spare Prince Robin's life… by marrying him."

The room went completely silent. It only lasted for a second or two, but in that time, the prince had his answer ready, which echoed through the room.

"The _hell _you will!"

_The End… of part 1._

* * *

A/N:

Yes. This is where this story has been heading and I'm sure some of you guessed it already. I really, REALLY wanted to write a "forced marriage" fic that was actually set in a time where arranged marriages were the norm for nobles (granted, we're still dealing with a fake historic setting here, but you get the drift). If this is not your thing, if you're disappointed, then I understand, but this is a personal "kink" of mine, so you are kinda stuck with it if you carry on reading… ;)

Also (correct me if I'm wrong) I don't think anyone REALLY expected Slade to kill Robin… I mean… ummm… would be a pretty bad ending, wouldn't it? Not that one can't EVER kill the other in a story, but maybe not in_ this_ kind of story? Anyway, so I never expected_ this_ turn of events to be surprising, the thing that has hopefully kept you curious is exactly _how_ it would happen. So here we are… now part two starts. Robin is NOT happy. And I'm pretty sure he can make Slade miserable as well… ;) Slade won't take _too_ much crap, though, so you might see a bit more… umm… _assertive_ Slade from now on as he doesn't have to play the slave anymore… _somewhat_ switched roles… ;) That MIGHT mean you'll get to see scenes that _maybe_ can be perceived as somewhat abusive (for sensitive readers), however, so MILD warnings for that in the future…

This part of the story is rather unplanned at this point, though… I have several "plot points" but not a decisive ending right now, so I don't know how long it will be… might be ten chapters, might be thirty… it also depends on if I manage to bore you or not, so let me know if I do/don't and also give me suggestions of what you might want to see happen!

**Now, I seldom beg for reviews, unless it's the last chapter of a story, but as this is the last chapter of PART ONE, might I be so forward as to ask what you thought this far? No need to review**_** again**_** until the last chapter, though! Not keeping track here… ;)**

Oh, and "part two" will continue right here next Sunday as chapter 18… I'm not gonna divide the story up, it's just more of two parts in my head… ;)

All the best!

/Wynja


	18. A Dog May Be Man's Best Friend

A/N: thank you to** Yaoigurl12** for being my beta this time! Well, you're about to find out a bit more about the conditions for this… proposal… and something of what the court thinks of it… and what ROBIN thinks of it, if that wasn't already clear.. .;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 18: A Dog May Be Man's Best Friend, But the Horse Wrote History**

After Slade's announcement and Robin's rejection the room had exploded in a cacophony of shouts. Slade had ordered everyone who was not of Gotham decent into the ballroom, which was now also held under siege. The prince had been allowed to rise but had been taken off to the side, spitting angry. His valet had been permitted to join him and it looked like the old man was trying to calm the boy down. Slade didn't have time with that now, however, because his claim to the throne had still not been accepted. Also, the time was running out before the rest of the castle's guards would realize what was going on, join forces and try to drive them out.

"Magistrate, declare me king," Slade ordered.

The old man straightened up, however, and though his voice trembled a little he looked the northern king in the eye as he spoke. "I cannot. The circumstances are not clear. I demand a council!"

Slade tried not to groan, but he appreciated the man's courage. "I accept. But my soldiers will soon be attacked in the halls. Unless you don't want to risk your life and that of everyone else's in this castle, you will declare me temporary head of state. The Laws of War states that all that is standing between me and the throne is the life of any heirs to the crown. If you decide your prince has to die, so be it."

"I'll gladly fight you, you deceitful piece of _scum_!" the prince called from across the room.

"Only the king had the_ right_ to a duel," Slade told him, raising his voice just enough so it carried. "His heirs are allowed to fight_ if_ they are free to do so. You are not." He turned his back to the prince once more and looked down on the old bearded man. "What is your interpretation of the law?"

"If anyone should be declared king, it should be the Prince!" someone in the crowd yelled, joined by several agreeing voices.

"I'm afraid the Prince is underage," the magistrate said. "I am sorry, Your Highness," he added turning to the prince and bowing. "I have no choice but agree with King Deathstroke, as he has at least partial claim to the throne and is of age."

"Good. Blackgate, Sprang River, assemble your men. Have the inhabitants of the castle, including the guards, gather in the courtyard and inform them that the king is dead and a truce is declared until the rule of this country is finalized. You better work quickly, and you will be under guard," Slade said and gestured for two soldiers to escort the nobles out. "You, valet… what is your name?" he then asked, turning to the former king's right hand man.

"B-Bobbins, S-Sir… E-Elias Bobbins," the man, who was in his late thirties and a little bit portly, stammered as he wrung his hands nervously. His dark hair was tied back in the way that was fashionable in the country, but was thin to the point where he would have looked better if he got it closely cropped instead. Fashion, unfortunately, rarely fit everyone.

"Bobbins, you and the Magistrate will decide who should be part of the committee. Only those who are present in the castle may attend, I want this settled before dinnertime."

"Y-yes, S-sir," the man bowed.

"I also want the king's body moved and prepared for funeral," Slade continued. "The funeral will be in three days and until then his body will be displayed for anyone who would doubt his death. See to it."

The man bowed again and he and Magistrate were allowed to leave. Slade looked around, pleased with the outcome. Everything was still going his way. He met the eyes of the prince, which were almost black with hate, and actually turned away to speak to Wintergreen rather than hold the gaze. Things _would_ go his way. Probably.

* * *

"But Your Highness, this way you will_ live_," Alfred told him yet again, in the same quiet, urgent voice.

"I won't marry him! It's preposterous! I'm a man! There has to be a law against it!" Robin growled back. The soldiers were still holding him, after noticing that letting go of the prince at this point was _not_ a good idea.

"I know it sounds… unconventional…" the valet tried again, "but if the council decides _against_ it… Sir, you will be executed!"

"Good!" Robin snorted, though of course he didn't really _want_ to die. What he _wanted _to do was disembowel Slade. With a spoon. Preferably a wooden one."I hope that the council has some _sense_!"

"Well forgive me, Sir, but in that case I hope they _don't_," Alfred muttered.

* * *

Several old, serious faces had assembled around a large table in the former king's official strategy room. These were the scholars of the castle, the magistrates. Nobles of higher rank were in attendance as well, among them the dukes, even though the late king had sentenced them to death for treason.

Slade was seated at one end of the long table with Robin at the other. Wintergreen and another one of his men were standing against the wall, merely as observers. Some had objected to the boy's presence, but the temporary Head of State wanted him there, hoping that seeing their young prince might help the scholars to make a decision in his favor. Robin himself still didn't seem particularly happy but he had calmed down some. Slade wished he had been able to speak to him privately before the council, but there simply hadn't been time. One of his soldiers was standing right behind the prince, ready to intervene if the boy decided to do something stupid. He surely looked like he would. Alfred was on the boy's other side and seemed to be ready to intervene as well.

The table was filled with books and the magistrates were already poring over them and muttering amongst themselves.

"This council is now in session," Slade called out as everyone had been seated. "I should remind you that you are not here to decide whether or not I will be king of this country; you are here to decide if I can take the crown without executing your prince, by marrying him."

"I don't see how!" Duke Blackgate spoke up. "How about the succession?"

"I have two grown sons who will rule Gotham and Blüdhaven after me," Slade said. "The succession is secure."

"Even so, he is not a woman! He can't give birth!" the man continued.

Slade knew that leaving the prince alive had not been part of the original plan he had included the dukes in, but the man seemed almost vehement about the boy's death. He was angry and Slade thought he could see some fear there too. He didn't trust any of these men, but he now knew he had to keep a very close eye on them.

"Actually…" one of the magistrates spoke up, pointing to a text in a book. "King Thomas the Third married his second wife, the widow of a count, who was known to be barren. The wedding was allowed only because the line already was secure from his previous marriage."

"He is still a man! Not that, even, he's a _boy_!" Blackgate continued. "Are we going to allow the marriage of _children_ now?"

"You are more comfortable allowing the _execution_ of one?" Slade said dryly. "But of course not. The prince will be an adult in a little over a month. I intend to marry him on his birthday. Until we've had a chance to draw up an engagement contract, my declaration of intent to wed him should be legally binding." Robin, Slade saw after a quick glance in his direction, was squeezing the wooden armrests of his chair, his knuckles white. Alfred had also placed a hand on his shoulder, looking like he was holding on for dear life. Slade avoided eye contact, though, because he had a feeling that would only provoke the boy further.

"How… that is…" One of the old men coughed, trying to find the right words. "Tell me, Your Highness… what do you see the _nature_ of this marriage to be?"

Slade knew that question could tip the scale, but claiming he wanted a marriage in name only when he _didn't,_ would only complicate things further on. "The nature of the marriage is to be clarified in the marriage contract, which is a private agreement between the spouses and their families," Slade said, getting nods in concord from several people in the room. "Thus it is not appropriate to discuss here. It is also not what this council was called to decide. The prince is in my hands. Nothing but your approval to this marriage will save his life." He said this hoping that some of the people in the room would interpret that to mean that he was simply doing this as an act of mercy.

"I can't find any Marriage Laws _forbidding_ men to marry," one of them muttered.

"But if we approve this, there will be a precedent… meaning _more _men can marry!" another one said.

"If there is no laws against this, I don't see how we can decide against it," one of the nobles spoke up.

"Yes, well _your_ approval comes as no surprise to _me_, Lord Galante," the Duke of Sprang River snorted, Blackgate making a similar derisive sound.

"And some might feel they would profit from His Highness' _death_," the mocked lord snapped back.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is only about interpretation of the law," a scholar chastised them. "I think we should look at…"

And the discussion went on. Several versions of the Marriage Law was studied, but though they all agreed that the terms dealt with 'the groom' and 'the bride' no one could find anything mentioning that a marriage between two grooms was against the law. Some argued that just because it wasn't mentioned didn't mean it was legal, and some the opposite.

"This is insane, I am your prince!" Robin suddenly cut in, apparently tired of listing to it all. "Shouldn't I have a say in this? How come he can decide to marry me? I'm not a woman! I have a say in who I marry!"

"Yes, well…" one of the magistrates scratched his beard. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but as King Deathstroke has been declared temporary Head of State and already has the title of King, he outranks you. Furthermore you are not an adult, so you have no voice where the Marriage Laws are concerned, just like an unwed woman."

"Then wait until I'm eighteen and crown me king!" Robin growled.

"There will be no waiting," Slade cut in sternly. "Either the council decides that I am allowed to marry you, thus officially granting me the crown to Gotham… or you die, giving me the crown all the same." This time their eyes met, but Robin's only answer was a mouthed word Slade could easily read; '_bastard_'.

Robin's words had drawn attention to him, however, and one after one the scholars agreed with Slade's wish. The nobles followed suit, the Duke of Blackgate being the last to submit, and only after a very long cold stare from Slade.

"According to the Laws of War I hereby declare Slade Wilson, King Deathstroke of Blüdhaven, the rightful ruler of the Kingdome of Gotham," the senior scholar declared solemnly. "Long live the King."

"Long live the King," the room repeated solemnly. Well. Not _everybody_.

"Good. The official crowning will take place tomorrow, followed by the pledge of allegiance from those houses that can attend, as well as representatives from the military and the castle and city guard."

"Tomorrow, Your Majesty?" It was Bobbins, the valet, who had spoken up.

"Yes. Don't worry too much about the arrangements, the basic ceremony will be enough. No feast, just refreshments afterwards. Those that are usually served in the ball room will suffice. We'll hold off the celebrations for the wedding and the prince's birthday. You, scholars," he said and turned to them. "Put this news in writing. Have your apprentices write up as many copies as possible, in fact, enlist the help of anyone who can write and don't have more urgent duties. I want this news to be on its way to our neighboring countries, the aristocracy and legions by tonight."

"But the new law? We need time to discuss the details and-" one of the men said.

"Then only announce that Gotham is under my leadership now and don't mention the wedding," Slade said. "After that is done you'll have time to decide the details. They will need my approval, however."

"Yes, My Lord," he was told and the Magistrates, after gathering up their books and scrolls, scurried out of the room as fast as little old men could.

"Gentlemen," Slade then said, turning to the nobles. "Your titles are safe, as the law states, as long as you swear allegiance to me tomorrow. You are free to go, but I wouldn't advice trying to leave the castle." The men bowed, some lower than others, and left as well. "Now then, Bobbins…" Slade said turning to the valet, "One more thing. You were the former king's valet, and if you don't wish to continue your duty I will release you from it after the coronation tomorrow. Until then you will be watched, I'm afraid. You can give me your answer then."

"T-Thank you, Sir," the man stuttered.

"You are free to go, as you have much to do. Report to my chambers tomorrow morning at breakfast time."

"Y-yes- but.. y-your chambers would… would be…?"

"The late king's rooms of course. I expect to find them clean and the linen changed when I retire tonight."

"Of course, Your Majesty!"

"Good man. You may go."

When he left there were only Slade, Wintergreen, Robin, Alfred and two soldiers left in the room. The man steeled himself as he finally turned to the boy.

"It looks like you get to live," he said.

Robin made a move to rise, and after a nod from Slade the soldier let him.

"You… you…" the boy growled, coming closer.

"You are in the presence of your king," Wintergreen spoke up. "I wouldn't advice saying or doing anything that would have you sent to the headman for treason… not after His Majesty went to all this trouble to save your life."

"Quiet!" Robin snapped. "_Trader_ Wintergreen… Just as deceitful as the lowlife you call king! I would have you executed, but then again… I want those horses."

"Horses?" the man blinked.

"Is your name William Wintergreen?" Robin asked.

"Well, yes."

"Well, I happen to have a signed letter from you promising me ten of the best horses Blüdhaven has to offer, remember?" the prince said with a little, cold, smirk. "And you better keep that promise or you will have broken the International Trading Law… the punishment for that is quite harsh I believe."

The man just blinked again, and then let out a short chuckle. "I better do as I promised, then. I can see why you like him," he added to his king, making Robin round on him again.

"Actually, don't I also have a certificate saying I _own_ you?" he sneered, thinking the fake trader must have given Alfred some sort of paperwork concerning the fake slave.

"No you don't, actually," Slade smirked. "But we'll soon have a contract."

"I don't care what those old goats say, I will _not_ marry you!" the prince snorted.

"If you don't sign the agreement on our wedding day you give me no _choice_, Robin," Slade said firmly.

"Don't you _dare _use my name!" the prince hissed.

"You forget I outrank you, boy," Slade reminded him, _trying_ to be patient. He had a lot to do, and he didn't want to stand around here arguing with the prince. It wouldn't do much good, anyway, at least not in public like this.

He caught the prince's hand before his fist could make contact with his face and shoved him back towards the guards, who resumed their grip on him.

"Take His Highness to his rooms. No visitors, bar servants and his valet. Make sure he stays there," he ordered.

"You're locking me up!?" the young man snarled.

"Only until you have calmed down. I'll come see you tonight."

"I don't want to see _you_!"

Slade sighed and tilted the boy's head up, forcing him to meet his eye. "You have to realize, little prince, that from now on your life is not going to be about what _you_ 'want'."

"Well, I'm used to _that_," the boy spat back.

* * *

"This was your plan? You're _marrying_ him?" Wintergreen asked Slade in a rather tired voice once they were alone.

"It was the only solution."

"Well, _congratulations_, your bride seems _really_ happy," his best friend snorted.

"It's legal in Blüdhaven, after all, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course, but not _here_!"

"It is _now_," Slade said smugly.

"Yes, but…" the man sighed. "I'm just not sure it's the intelligent thing to do. This country has to get used to the thought of having a new king on the throne… and now you will also marry their _prince_?"

"It is a pity that he is a boy, but there's not much I can do about that," Slade shrugged. "And do you really think you can talk me out of this?"

"No, I know _that _is doomed to fail…" his friend muttered. "Just don't come complaining to me about your marital problems, will you?"

"Dear friend…" Slade said, grinned and slung an arm over the other man's shoulders. "Of course I will. In detail."

"Fine. One question?"

"Yes?"

"Is there any point in removing your collar, you think…?"

* * *

"Please, your Highness-"

"GO AWAY!" Robin was in a blind rage and had gotten hold of the fire iron. He was now busy beating what remained of his former slave's cot into smithereens, stopping only to kick and stomp at the pieces. The room was full of feathers from the ripped pillow and the fire was roaring after being fed the sheets.

"But please, calm-"

"GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!" the prince actually shoved his old valet out of his bedroom and slammed the door shut, locking it from the inside. After a moment's deliberation he then pushed a heavy chair in front of it as well. That would have to do, as he couldn't even budge the massive dresser. He then continued to destroy the cot, fantasizing that it was really Slade's body, until he was too tired to go on. He then sank down on the floor, letting go of the fire iron with a pained grunt as his fingers had closed so tightly around the handle that they now didn't want to straighten. He couldn't even process what had happened. His father was dead… he could grasp that, but not in combination with the fact that it was Slade who had killed him. And he could understand that the man had tricked him, but that he was now King of Gotham…? No… too much… Even that fact that Slade already _was _a monarch… that Robin had been taught to fight by an enemy king… that he had shared a bed with the man… that they had… The prince whimpered and curled up where he sat. No… no… just too much… all those things he had said to the man… in confidence… the trust… the… Robin's throat convulsed in pain, and only then did he realize that he had been screaming. Wailing in pure pain from the betrayal, for his _loss_. His father. His country. His future. His hopes and dreams. His… _Slade_. The wail gave away to sobs, wrecking the slim body, contorting it, depriving it of air. In the end it simply shook and the boy, out of pure emotional exhaustion, blacked out.

He didn't hear the heavy knocking at the door, or people calling his name. He barely stirred as the door was kicked in so hard that the chair propped against it broke apart as well.

"Robin?"

"I don't think your presence here helps, Your Majesty." Alfred's voice. It sounded tense. Angry. But polite. Very Alfred. Robin slowly drifted towards the surface. "If you would just help me get him into bed?"

He was lifted, but when he felt a familiar scent he struggled weakly to get away. "No.. no…"

"Shh, Your Highness, drink this…"

A flask was pushed against his lips and, as it was Alfred's voice and the smell was gone, the prince obeyed. The taste was strong and he almost immediately felt dizzy, but the muscles in his body relaxed and someone was making him comfortable, taking off his shoes and jacket, tucking a sheet around him. All the while talking softly and calmingly. He suddenly remembered being little and sick with a fever. This was like that time. But there was something else now… a threat… something bad…

"S… Slade…"

"He's not here, Your Highness, don't worry…" his valet's voice informed him.

"He's… he's gone… He's never coming back…"

"Your Highness?" the old man just asked, not knowing if contradicting him would be such a good idea.

"_My_ Slade…_ My_ Slade is never… coming… back…" the young man mumbled before the sleeping potion took over completely.

* * *

"Still sure it was worth it?" Wintergreen asked dryly outside of the prince's bedroom door.

"He'll calm down," Slade insisted.

"Yes. Of course. You_ might_ not want to have a fire iron in the room on your wedding night, though… just to make sure."

"I'll hide everything more lethal than a pillow."

"That's my king."

"We have work to do," the king in question muttered. "I want a full account of the men to see if we lost any, including any other casualties in the castle. I will address the guards and the staff as soon as I can."

Two hours later Slade was seated in his new throne facing the castle guard as well as most of the staff, including all of the senior staff members. He only had two of his own guards at the door, and Wintergreen standing beside the throne. Speaking to these men while hiding behind his own soldiers was not an option for Slade; it was a display of weakness, not power. He kept his visor up as well. It felt rather odd to him to show his face when in armor, as he hadn't done that in public since he had lost his eye. He had never planned to rule Gotham from behind a mask, however; that time was over. No one would ever question his strength now, and Blüdhaven would be opening their gates to the world as well; no more hiding_ its_ strength either.

He looked out over the faces, lingering on those he knew. All seemed to be there, but then again, the reports Wintergreen had told him had been good; no deaths, only a few injuries and of them, only one was serious. Most of the guards looked stricken, some grieving, but there was anger there as well, which might be dangerous. A few looked fearful as if they wondered if they had been brought here to be slaughtered. Slade didn't blame them; keeping an armed force around that used to belong to your enemy? Normally not a smart move. However, there was a reason to do so.

"Men," he said, standing up. "Ladies," he nodded to the staff section, which held a few senior housekeepers, after all. "You have already been informed, though briefly, what has happened here today. I understand your grief, your anger and your fear, but let me settle the last one; the War Laws give you a certain degree of protection, so trust in them if you can't trust in my honor or my word yet. You served the former king. Some of you are bound by vows to serve the crown and this castle. I want you to remember that that does not mean to serve a _certain _king, but the_ rightful_ king, the title I now bear according to the law. However," he continued, looking out over the crowd, making sure to meet the eyes of as many influential people as possible, "if you feel that you cannot honor those vows, you will be released from them. You will get the severance pay and the recommendation letter that is owed to you according to your contracts. Slaves, of course, stay with the house. You will not be punished or prosecuted, but be warned; acts of rebellion _will _be dealt with swiftly and permanently. Also, resignations will not be accepted for one week. King Bruce will be buried first, and be given the reverence he deserves, so show your respect for him by carrying on your duty until that time. Tomorrow, at my coronation, you will be asked to swear your allegiance to me, as per tradition however. That does not mean you can't simply resign from your duty when the week is up. If you feel that you can't give me your allegiance, you will be taken to the dungeons where you will be kept, under fair treatment, until the week is up. Then you will be escorted out of the castle. If so, however, you will not receive pay or recommendations." Slade let this sink in a little before continuing. "What I ask for you, for this week, is that the castle is run smoothly and efficiently as it always has been. Do your jobs. Only the guards will notice any real change, as they will be doing their duty side by side with my men. Also, this," Slade gestured to Wintergreen, "is my second in command, William Wintergreen. You may refer to him as General, as our countries military titles are not quite the same. He will be in charge of not only the guards but also the military. If Captain Sinclair chooses to remain on his post and swears his allegiance to me tomorrow he will continue as your senior officer reporting directly to the General. If not, there will be a promotion according to rank. Questions?"

The room was quiet for a moment, but then a voice in the back spoke up.

"What about the prince's funeral, Your Majesty?" The question was followed by a murmur through the room.

"Prince Robin is alive and well," Slade told them, which caused even more of a confused buzz. "I'm speaking the truth. He is, however, mourning the loss of his father. His life was spared as I found a loophole in the War Laws, which has then been approved by your scholars and nobles. The loophole, I'm sure, will be seen as unconventional but it was the only way to save His Highness' life: on his eighteenth's birthday I intend to marry him."

That caused quite a racket, even a few shouts and laughs, but Slade raised his hand. "Like I said, I'm aware that this is untraditional. However, a voice _against_ the marriage is a voice_ for_ the death of the prince." The room turned dead quiet. Maybe, Slade thought , he had underestimated the support the prince had. True, the boy had no personal connections here but that didn't mean he wasn't still a symbol, and with their king gone the castle would gather around him. This could be a good thing, if Slade could control the prince. The man had a sinking feeling about that one, but as long as the boy handled it all calmly in public… He would have to ask Alfred what he had given the young man to calm him down…

Slade dismissed them all shortly after and people seemed calmer when they left.

"Should I send word home about our success?" Wintergreen asked as the throne room had emptied.

"Yes, also have the border troops ready, just in case."

"And your son's new… 'step mother'? Should I mention him?"

"Yes, you better. I'd rather have my sons yell at me through a letter…" Slade chuckled. "But make sure you mention the _reason _behind it."

"Of course," Wintergreen said and then mimed writing in the air. "'Dear Grant and Joseph. Your father has fallen head over heels in love with a boy and decided to marry him-"

"Get out of here," Slade growled. His friend chuckled and left.

Slade sighed, sank down on the throne again and massaged his temples. To be perfectly honest he didn't quite know _how_ to explain this decision to his boys. Hopefully it _would_ prove to be a tactical advantage, and then he could claim that he had known it would be all along.

He spent the rest of the day, long into the night, in meetings with the nobles and foreign dignitaries, switching between stroking ruffled feathers and making subtle threats. The meetings with the foreigners were the most important as they feared for their own lives and their countries as well.

"There are no plans to expand Blüdhaven's borders further," he told them, to calm them down. "I might be willing to sign binding peace contracts promising that we will not attack any of our neighbors during my lifetime unless we are provoked to do so, but all that has to wait. My word will have to do, and I encourage you to tell your Heads Of State that I give it to them. I would assume you all have received invitations for the Prince's birthday and I see it as a sign of good will if representatives were to attend. Invitations for the wedding will be sent out as well, of course." He managed to gain some sort control over the men and hopefully the messages they would send home would be carefully optimistic instead of calling to war.

When he retired for the night, he first headed to the prince's rooms again. He walked alone, passing both his own soldiers and the castle guards, but he wasn't foolish enough to do so unarmed. Wintergreen had been holding on to Slade's usual longsword, which was, of course, in one piece, and he also had a shorter blade at his side as some corridors were too narrow for his favorite weapon. Still, he wasn't better armed than the majority of nobles were; a good blade was a status symbol, a decoration, and was often worn even in times of peace.

He didn't hesitate when he reached the boy's rooms and the guards outside merely stepped to the side as the king entered, of course without knocking. Alfred was resting in a chair in the front sitting room, but stood up as Slade opened the door.

"His Highness is resting, Sir," the man said coldly.

"I assumed he would be. Is he resting well?"

"Yes. He will sleep until late in the morning tomorrow, Your Majesty. If he will be allowed to do so?"

"He will. I intend to have a word with him during the day, however… lunch, if he is at all ready by then. Send word to me when he has woken up." Slade made a move to turn back, but then stopped. "Valet Pennyworth, I assume you will stay on your post?"

"If I am allowed to, yes," the old man said.

"You're not only allowed to, I _hoped_ you would. He needs some normality in his life now." Slade's voice was courteous, almost humble. "I understand if you despise me, Alfred, but remember that we have something in common you and I; neither of us want him dead."

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: Reading _your_ reactions from earlier chapters gives me hope that you will understand _Robin's _reaction… is it the way the character would act in a more canon setting? Probably not, then it would all be anger and fighting, but so many of you have, during the first part of the story, said "he's going to feel so BETRAYED!" and YES. Exactly. Slade was the only person Robin ever really connected with, after all… I tried really hard to try to get into the same set of emotions, and I couldn't… I couldn't find a reaction to EVERYTHING, I couldn't imagine how it would feel, hence I didn't think _Robin _could, so I made it impossible for him to grasp the whole thing… also, when I finished writing that part I found that my teeth were clamped together really hard and my whole body was tensed up… *lol* Oh, well, I HAVE been known for feeling the effects of morning sickness while writing m-preg, so… hmm… ;) This doesn't mean that the slightly snooty prince is just gone and broken, though… he'll bounce back more and more… ;) Sometimes we just have to break down to move on… ;)


	19. A Horseman Should Know

A/N: thank you to **elyador** for being my beta this time!

Today's title is a quote from a James Rarey… not even Wikipedia would tell me who that is, though… ;) If you know, tell me!

Also, this chapter touches on the subject of religion a bit more deeply than before. I'm an atheist and I didn't feel comfortable giving this world a 'real' religion, like Christianity of some kind, for example, so I made up a monotheistic 'church' thing for Gotham… I did it so it wouldn't alienate ANY beliefs or P.O.V, so hopefully no one feels offended... ;) I wouldn't expect any pro-religion writing from me, though, that doesn't feel right for me.

Aaaand one last thing. Several people have asked me if this story will be **m-preg**. **No**. **It will not.** I know it's almost EXPECTED of these kind of stories to BE m-preg but this is not a "magical" world in any way… if it had been, I would have set it up much sooner, after all…. ;) So, sorry, I'm (usually) an m-preg fan myself, but not in this world… for the hell of it I might write an "what if" m-preg drabble from this universe some time… it's not an absolute promise or anything, and it can't happen until this story is finished or CLOSE to finish, anyway, so don't hold your breath... but if you would be interested, feel free to let me know… I won't do it otherwise, after all… unless I really feel like it… in which case I write whatever the frick I want, as usual… ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 19: A Horseman Should Know Neither Fear, Nor Anger**

When Robin woke up there were a few, blissful, seconds where he didn't remember what had happened. Then he lifted his head to look for Slade, as he always did in the morning, and it all came rushing back. He could feel something clench inside, like two clawed hands, one grabbing his stomach and the other his heart, but he was… spent. Too tired, and still a bit groggy from the medicine, to outwardly react.

"Your Highness, how are you feeling?" Alfred asked, hastening to his side as he saw that the prince was awake.

"What time is it?" Robin asked, because he didn't know how to answer the man's question. He didn't _want_ to.

"Ten in the morning, Sir, but please, rest some more if you need to."

The room, Robin spotted, was perfectly clean. Not a sign of the slave remained anywhere. He didn't know how to feel about that… somehow he was both relieved and angry… Relieved that he didn't have to be reminded of the man, and angry that it was so easy… that he could just be gone… because his last conscious thought before falling asleep still plagued him; the Slade he knew was gone. He didn't know who the man in the black and orange armor was, but it wasn't _him_. _His_ Slade would never betray him like that.

No matter how much he wanted to stay in bed, pull the blankets over his head and pretend nothing of this was real, he _was_ still a prince of this country, so he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

"I need to wash. Don't bother with breakfast right now. I'll wear one of my dark blue jackets today, I think… something appropriate for mourning."

"Yes, My Lord, of course. Everything is ready. Um…"

"Yes?" Robin urged his valet on irritably. The old man never stuttered, after all.

"The… The King has asked that you join him for lunch."

"Send word to the King that he can go eat shit," the prince deadpanned.

"Sir-!"

"Don't!" Robin snapped. He could _not _deal with his valet's reprimands right now.

"Though I agree with you that… _manure _might be an appropriate meal for His Majesty, you will_ have_ to meet him sooner or later, My Lord," the valet said sternly. "He _does _intend to marry you, after all."

"We'll see about that."

"Please, Your Highness, I _beg_ you… he came to check up on you last night and he said something… Sir, have you considered_ why_ he bothered with all this… with letting you live?"

"Revenge? Tactics? I don't care. He betrayed me, Alfred! He found… he was there when…" But the prince couldn't talk about his real parents right now. After all; they might have been a lie as well. Something Deathstroke had set up. Alfred would know, of course, but Robin didn't want to ask. Not now. Not yet. "He was… just help me wash and dress!"

"Yes, My Lord," the valet nodded.

When he was presentable again, Robin strode out of the bedroom and towards the front doors to his quarters.

"I'm going riding," he announced as he pushed the doors open. He heard Alfred call something after him and then his road was blocked by two guards.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, the King has requested that you stay in your rooms," one of them said, a _Gotham_ guard to boot, and only then did Robin remember about the room arrest.

"This is ridiculous, I am your prince! I wish to go riding! If you insist, you can come along, but-"

"We're only following the orders from the king," the other guard insisted. This one was from Blüdhaven judging by his blond hair and his accent. The men made him back up and then closed the double doors again, leaving the prince staring at them.

"Maybe, My Lord, if you asked the King during lunch…?" his valet suggested.

Robin took a few, very deep, breaths. "Very well. Send word to the '_King'_ that I'd be _delighted _to have lunch with him…" he said between his teeth, fighting a childish urge to lash out and smash something.

"At once, My Lord," Alfred said and opened the doors. The guards were ready but when they saw that it was the valet, they stepped aside.

Robin looked around the room. Wasn't there anything he could break in here that he could claim was just by accident? Or possible hide afterwards? He sighed and sank down in a chair. No. He couldn't act like a spoiled child. He was a prince and soon an adult. He had smiled and nodded through painfully boring conversations, through badly veiled insults and blatant stupidity… he knew how to control himself. Or he _thought _he knew. But this was different; this was _personal_. It had never really been personal before. He hadn't even known he could feel this way… Finding out about his parents didn't seem_ half_ this bad, but… then again… he had had someone _with_ him then… and now he was alone.

* * *

The lunch was being held in the king's private quarters, rooms Robin had only very seldom visited and barely remembered. The king's apartment was much bigger than the prince's and contained a separate dining room as well, which was where the lunch had been set up. The man was waiting for him by the windows and turned around when he entered, a neutral expression on his face. Robin instantly hated it. A leer or a smug look would have been better. Who did he think he was, pretending that nothing had changed?

"Your Highness, please take a seat," the king gestured. The table in use was not overly long, but there was still a respectable distance between the two settings at each end.

"I think it is traditional for the king to be seated first, Your Majesty," the prince replied coldly.

"Robin. Sit," the man snorted.

"I'm not your _dog_!" the prince said, refusing the man's order.

"No? Then stop acting like an annoying little disobedient puppy and take a seat," Deathstroke growled, coming closer.

Robin, however, refused to back down. "How dare you!? Just because you tricked me, lied to me, to get close to me doesn't mean you know who I- UGH!" Robin didn't know how the man had been able to move so fast, but suddenly he was being slammed out against a wall, his feet not even touching the ground.

"Your High-" Alfred's voice called out.

"Keep out of this, Pennyworth," Slade ordered him with a bark. "I don't know who you are, boy? Well, I thought I did, but I'm starting to question if I really do." He let the prince down, but didn't let go, still pressing him against the wall. "When I first met you I thought you were a shallow, empty-headed, arrogant little_ brat_. I thought I'd learned better, but here you are again… you're not getting your way and you're throwing tantrums like a two year old, not caring one bit about the people around you."

"I don't know if this is the right use of the word…" Robin growled. "But fuck on you!"

The man's lips quirked. "That would be, 'fuck you', Your Highness," he informed him.

"Yes, well…" the prince angrily refused to be embarrassed. "Then, fuck you! You have no idea!"

"I don't? Then why haven't you noticed that your valet, an old man, hasn't slept for long over twenty four hours, or at most a wink or two?"

The boy's eyes glanced over at the man in question, and a look of guilt appeared in them when he finally took in the old valet's appearance. The servant straightened up, however.

"I'm perfectly fine, Sir," he claimed.

"No," Robin said softly. "You're not. Go. Sleep for a few hours, at least. I'm sure the King can arrange for a guard to take me back after lunch." The last part was said in a dry, hostile voice, but it was some improvement, Slade supposed, and let the prince go.

The valet left, although reluctantly, and they were alone in the room.

"I wasn't throwing a tantrum," the prince said coldly. "I was merely observing the customs of this court. I have no idea how your rough_ mountain_ ways work."

"Here's a hint: obey me," the man answered, but he didn't seem particularly angry. The man gestured to a chair, and, with a roll of his eyes, the boy finally sat down. Slade did as well and as he didn't want to push his luck, he started the meal by lifting the silver cover off his plate. The prince did the same a second or so later. The king stayed quiet throughout the meal, because he didn't want the boy to start screaming again before they had both finished eating. Only water and a very mild apple cider was served with the food as Slade had a feeling that the prince would drink anything alcoholic in sight if he had the chance, and he had a reason to keep him sober… at least for a few more hours.

"So…" the man said, putting his knife and fork down, once the meal was over. "I have some things to discuss with you, and hope we can do it in a calm manner."

"What if I don't want to 'discuss' anything?" the prince sneered.

"I will hold you against the wall again until I'm sure you listen," the man shrugged. "It's all very simple, really; my coronation is in one hour, and you will be there, by my side."

"No." The prince rose from his seat.

"Still being selfish, Robin?"

"You don't need me there! The Law has declared you king! I don't want to stand there while you rub that in my face!"

"Like I said; selfish," the man snorted and rose as well. "I understand that you are hurt, Robin. I understand how easy it must be, especially for someone who has been raised as you have, to believe that this is about _you_. It isn't."

"Surprising, since Gotham is… _was _my country, and you killed my father! Forgive me for being a fool and taking that personally!"

"A country you were willing to leave and a father you-" Slade stopped himself and raised his hand in a pacifying gesture, "But no matter. Do you understand where this kingdom is right now? Do you understand how sharp the knife's edge is that it balances on? You are still a prince of this land, you are responsible for its people. This country can be attacked, or torn apart from the inside, unless we, you and I, present a strong, united front. Do you wish to see your people on the battlefield? Force young men like Riley out there to be slaughtered?" The boy didn't, judging by the way he averted his eyes.

"As you wish. I'll be there," Robin eventually agreed, his shoulders sagging somewhat. "But I refuse to be a prisoner in my own home!"

"Understandable. These times are uncertain, though, so you will always have a guard with you. And, for a few days at least, I want you to stay at the castle. No riding."

"But-"

"A few _days,_ Robin," Slade said, pointing out that he thought any objection to that was silly and juvenile. "It wouldn't be appropriate until after your father's funeral anyway."

The prince grimaced but nodded.

"Good. Since the coronation is so soon you can wait here in my rooms if you want." Robin nodded again. He preferred to stay here than to be herded back and forth like a sheep. He went to the window and looked out over the city and ocean.

"Why did you do it? Why did you decide to invade Gotham?" he asked.

"Blüdhaven is a very secretive country, we've always have been hiding up in the mountains… one of our secrets is that we are very, very wealthy," Slade began. At that claim the prince turned towards him and looked him up and down with a somewhat skeptical expression on his face.

"You don't dress like it." Slade's clothes were well made but unadorned. His breeches weren't as tight and were long enough to be tucked into his boots instead of having stockings take over at the knee. He also only wore a shirt, at least here in his private rooms, no waistcoat or overcoat which made him seem very underdressed no matter how well fitted it was.

"Our fashion is not as… _fancy_… as yours," the man smirked. "With the outside world we deal mostly in ironwork, steel, weapons… but we have precious metals in our mountains as well, gems too. I knew that if we gave that away, however, greedier countries might try to attack, and although we are hard to get at, and our soldiers are among the best in the world, we are a small country. Gotham, for example, would sooner or later overrun us. In taking this kingdom we gain both the means and power to start to trade, to show our wealth to the world. Gotham would provide the roads, the vessels and the guards, so to speak, and we the wares. Both countries will become exceedingly richer for it."

"You planned this for long, then?"

"Oh, yes. Even when I began rejoining my broken nation I knew that, sooner or later, it would be time to expand."

"Is Gotham going to be known as Blüdhaven now, then?" The prince had turned back towards the window. His voice was bitter, but collected. All in all, Slade thought things were going quite well.

"No, Blüdhaven will be the sovereign state but, for now, Gotham will keep its name and it will be very much, as they say, 'business as usual'. My eldest son will inherit the crown of Blüdhaven after me, and I would like to see my younger son on the Gotham throne, although not as king, of course. He will most likely take the title Chancellor."

"I see. And my title? _My_ right to the throne?"

"We will sort everything out in time," Slade said, avoiding the question.

"Of course. It's not very important, I suppose." The tone had more of a bite to it now, and Slade tried to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. It was immediately shrugged off, though, "Don't touch me!" the prince hissed.

Slade was about to answer when there was a knock on the door.

"Your Majesty, if you are ready, there are a few details…?" Valet Bobbins said. He had relaxed a good bit more now, and was very efficient which the king appreciated greatly. Slade had had to make it clear to the man that he did not need help dressing or bathing, however. As long as there were clean clothes available in the mornings, that was enough. He had introduced the man to Wintergreen as well, to make sure they worked closely together and that Bobbins could consult William instead of him on many matters, which saved a bit of time.

"Of course. Your Highness, as I said, you are free to stay here, just don't leave my quarters without my knowledge," Slade said and left.

Robin just continued to watch the city for a few minutes. All the people down there… they were the ones he needed to stay in control for. Deathstroke's words had changed his perception, but it had more split it in two than actually _helped_. He could understand the man's reasons, even accept that the kingdom of Gotham was no more. Logically he knew that life had to go on, that he couldn't let the country crumble. And then there was the other side. The private one. The one that didn't involve the prince, but _him_; Robin. He had been taught that duty came first, however… but even so, even though Deathstroke had talked about how very little would change, one thing had; he hated the man now, with a passion that felt irreversible. Being somewhat civil this long had made his stomach burn, and the man wanted to _marry_ him? He would have to spend the rest of his life in that cad's presence?

Robin took a deep breath. He shouldn't just assume the worst. Slade might go back to Blüdhaven right after the wedding, and Robin would simply stay _here_. With the travel time and then winter where most roads were more or less impassable, maybe he wouldn't have to see the man again until spring. Maybe never. Or just every other year or so. He could handle that. And he was still a prince, he still had the title, and as he turned eighteen he would be crowned king, wouldn't he? He didn't quite know what that would mean, though, as Slade already was the country's ruler… would they make up a title? Second King? Vice King? No matter, even though he wouldn't be able leave the title to an heir, he would still _hold_ it. He would still have influence and power. He just needed to be a bit patient. Robin chuckled wryly and shook his head. Unfortunately he had never been very good at that…

He left the dining room thinking that he at least could explore a little bit. Deathstroke and the valet were discussing something in the reception room. The king nodded a greeting in his direction but Robin pretended not to notice.

He peeked into two sitting rooms, one that looked official and a small one that seemed to be private. There was a small meeting-room, but it was probably rarely used before now. The late king held most meetings in the strategy room or in his more 'official' study, which were both close to the throne room.

At the end of the hallway were large double doors. Robin had never been this far into his father's private domain, but he knew what he would find through there. He still opened one of the doors a little and looked inside. The royal bedchamber. It was huge, with a bed to match, its canopy almost brushing the ceiling, which was painted with garlands of stylized flowers and vines. It was nice, Robin thought, it gave some life to the room through the warm bright hues. All the other colors throughout the quarters were rather dull and bland. He wondered if his father had had them repainted when he took the throne, but in that case the man clearly hadn't really cared… or maybe he just had a depressing taste.

He left the room and moved down the corridor again, now looking into the doors on the other side of it. He found a bathroom, storage and a small bedroom, although it looked like it had been unused for some time. The next room over was a study and library. It also seemed to double as a work-room for when his father hadn't had time to go down to his rooms in the cellars. The prince froze. His father's inventions! Deathstroke would have them too! No, that was _one_ thing he couldn't let happen. He knew where Bruce's workshop was and how to get there, but he needed the key. The key the king always carried on him, in a chain around his neck.

Robin turned on his heel and headed back, walking directly up to the king.

"I demand to see my father before the coronation."

"That is a bit sudden, Robin, the ceremony starts in around forty minutes…" Slade sounded reluctant, but the prince pushed harder.

"If I am to stand with you, the man who killed him, I need to say goodbye to my father first," he insisted.

"Very well. Oak, escort the prince. The body should be in the chapel by now. And Robin?"

"Yes?" the prince said coldly, eager to get going. His eyes widened slightly as Deathstroke went up to a guard and relived the man of his sword, before handing it, in its scabbard, over to the prince.

"Wear this, as you didn't bring your own. I don't want you to go _anywhere_ unarmed. This is serious, understood? Good. You," he said to Oak, "protect the prince with your life."

"Yes, My Lord," the soldier-turned-temporary guard said and then bowed shortly to Robin before gesturing for him to lead the way.

Robin hurried his steps to the castle's chapel, which was a very decorated stone building attached to the outside of the main complex like an afterthought. Gotham wasn't known for being very religious, but there were still rituals being observed at funerals, weddings and certain holidays during the year. These services were usually provided by members of a convent in the city, and they also tended to and 'cleansed' the dead… if they had been important enough in life, that was... or rather; if their families could pay for it…

The chapel was empty now, apart from the bier where Bruce's body rested.

"Would you give me some privacy, soldier?" Robin asked curtly as it looked like the man intended to follow him all the way up to the dead king.

"Certainly, Your Highness," the man answered and stopped just inside the doors.

The young man felt uneasy as he closed in on the body, which probably wasn't that surprising. He didn't really feel any grief… maybe it was the shock, but he couldn't grasp the concept of mourning this man right now. He cursed the fact that he was dead simply because what it meant for the country and, he admitted, for himself, but not on a personal level. Standing in front of the graves of his parents had meant more to him, and he hadn't even _known_ those people.

"I'm sorry I cannot mourn you right now, father… but I will do something for you that I know you will appreciate. I will make sure your inventions won't fall into the barbarian's hands. I hope that will make you happy…" he spoke in a low mumble which could be mistaken for prayer. He didn't need to speak out aloud at all of course, but he felt like he had to, for some reason. As his hands gingerly reached out to touch the man's funeral robes, however, he noticed that the key was gone. So was the man's signet ring and the golden band he usually wore instead of the official crown. Of course. The dead were not allowed to take anything with them. The monks must have removed everything of value when they prepared the body.

Robin straightened up and walked slowly back towards the guard, trying to look grief-stricken and not merely irritated.

"I would like to speak with one of the monks, just briefly," he told the man. "There should be someone in one of the praying chambers here, as the King can't be allowed to be left alone before he's buried."

"Yes, I suppose that is alright… but don't take too long, Sir," the man −Oak, Robin reminded himself− said.

"I won't," Robin nodded and went in search of the monk. He found him, and he was surprisingly young, although the prince assumed that not even monks were_ born_ old.

"I am Prince Robin," he introduced himself, "I am not sure if you know me?"

"Your Highness, yes, I know who you are. My condolences for your loss. Did you wish to speak to me about the eternal matters of the soul?"

"I'm… not sure I am ready to do that just yet," the prince said diplomatically, "and I am due to the coronation very shortly. I have a question, though. The King, my beloved father, he had a pendant which he always wore, it looked somewhat like a key… do you know what has become of that?" Robin knew that the key looked very unusual. Bruce had, after all, designed the lock himself, and had the key made to look like a piece of jewelry to, somewhat, disguise its true use.

"All of the late Kings belongings have been gathered and are to be given over to King Deathstroke, as per order, My Lord," the monk said, looking slightly worried that they might have done something wrong.

"Oh, good, good…" Robin said with a fake smile. "Then my betrothed has it? I should go ask him for it, then."

"Well, I'm afraid we haven't had the opportunity yet to-"

"Oh no…" Robin looked heartbroken. "That pendant… well it was very important to my father and I knew he wanted me to have it… and I had hoped to wear it during the ceremony… I… I really need his strength right now…" he said, his voice shaking slightly. "I mean, I know the strength of the Spirit is with me," he added, to please the monk, "but, forgive me… in these times… I feel like I need more… And my father said the key represented the key to the Spirit's strength to him…"

"Very understandable, my son," the young man said, and placed a hand of comfort on the prince's shoulder. "As it is so important, I think I can go get this pendant for you. If you would wait here?"

"Of course. I would be very grateful," the prince smiled.

Soon his hand closed over the key and he thanked the monk profoundly before hurrying back to his guard, the treasure hidden in a pocket. The man escorted him back to the King's rooms, and the first person the prince saw was Alfred.

"I thought I told you to rest?" Robin said.

"An hour was plenty for now, My Lord. I will of course attend the coronation," the old man answered. "Also, we need to get you ready. I've secured your crown from the treasury."

"Ah, of course… but you will take the rest of the day and night off, Alfred…" Robin said and then placed a hand on the old man's arm. "I need you very much right now, but that doesn't mean I want you to wear yourself out. Please rest?"

"Thank you, Your Highness," the old valet said, looking somewhat moved. "But let's hurry now… the King has granted us the use of the room over here and I have all the things ready."

Robin's back was stiff as he stood watching the ceremony from a place of honor next to the throne. His crown of white gold and mainly blue stones was far from as heavy as the yellow gold crown with matching stones that was now being lowered onto Deathstroke's head, but it _felt_ like it weighed a ton. He wore his ceremonial sash and orders of merit as well, his hair, gathered with a bow at the nape of his neck as usual, was immaculate, and every piece of metal and leather shone. He fingered the hilt of his own sword, Alfred had brought it along, and even though it was Blüdhaven made, and Deathstroke had helped picked it out… Robin still wanted to keep it. It was too perfect, too beautiful… and he could spend times like this fantasizing about spearing the man's groin with steel from his own country.

His eyes locked on said man. He was dressed in the fashion of Gotham now. Probably, the prince suspected, to subtly proclaim that 'I'm one of you'. He had chosen his clothes from the royal ceremony wardrobe and Robin had to admit that he had made a good choice; nothing too flashy but also recognizable items the kings of Gotham had been crowned in for generations, like that dark blue, ermine-hemmed mantle and the gold-embroidered coat underneath which color matched the mantle perfectly. Blue _was_ the royal color in Gotham, after all. Other countries used red, white or yellow and Robin had always been partial to deep red himself, but blue_ did_ fit him very well. It also fit Deathstroke, unfortunately. The lousy dog looked very handsome.

By law the man was allowed to crown himself, but again he had been clever enough to allow the abbot of the Gotham Monastery to do the honors, hinting that what was happening was considered right both in the eyes of the law and the Spirit.

The prince was grateful for one thing, though; he didn't have to smile. Considering the loss of the king and that he hadn't been buried yet, the ceremony was a solemn occasion. No one expected him to be happy about it, after all, but he could feel the eyes of the court on him, looking for signs of grief or anger. Robin kept his expression as blank as he possibly could and even made himself mime the traditional words of "long live the king" as the ceremony ended.

His sacrifice wasn't over however, because when it was time for the oath of allegiance, the king rose from the throne and came up to him.

"Take my arm," he said, offering it to Robin. "They will swear their oaths to me as their king, but having you next to me will make things easier for them."

"I will not take your arm like a_ woman_," the prince kept his voice low, but his eyes burned with disgust. "I'll stand beside you, but that is all."

"As you wish. For now," the king said, but as they walked towards the edge of the podium he still placed a hand on the middle of the prince's back, leading him that way instead.

"If I had my riding crop right now…" Robin growled.

"I'm not your slave anymore," the man pointed out.

"I noticed you took off the collar. Pity. It suited you," the prince responded, his low voice dripping with poison. The king merely snorted lightly and then addressed his new subjects. He gave a speech like that he had given Robin; how nothing would really change, how both countries would prosper… the prince stopped listening. The key was burning in his pocket, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go down to the dungeons undetected. Deathstroke might be very busy now, but soon enough he would think about the king's inventions and ask himself where the key was… after all, Robin had confirmed what the guard had told the man about the king's workrooms… While he was busy internally beating himself up for trusting the lying bastard, the people in the room suddenly sank down on one knee. The prince blinked, not realizing that the speech was over. Deathstroke then turned to him and raised an eyebrow. No? Surely not? He wouldn't have to-? But they weren't blood, Robin was just a nobleman like many of the people already kneeling. The man glanced at the floor and then gave the prince a meaningful look.

"Fuck you…" Robin mouthed and then sank down on one knee as well.

They were led in the oath of allegiance by the abbot, and Robin amused himself by exchanging every other word with the worst profanities he could think of. Childish? Yes, he supposed so, but whatever he could do to feel slightly better about all this…

There was a bit of a reception afterwards, for only the nobles and foreign guests, of course, and the prince couldn't wait to get out of there. The looks, the whispering… he wanted to scream.

"Um… Your Highness?" Robin turned around to see River and Gordon. It was Gordon who had spoken, but he didn't look like he knew what to say next. "I… um… we would like to offer our condolences, and… I guess… congratulations on your engagement?"

"Well chosen words, Gordon," River snorted. "My Lord… Robin… I have to tell you this much; I had _no_ idea of my father's plans! I was sent away to my cousins for a few weeks this spring, it must have been then Slade- I mean… King Deathstroke… visited. If I had known who he was, I would have warned you! If you… I'll stand by your side if…" the young man looked around, making sure no one overheard. "If you want to do something about this…"

"Didn't you just swear allegiance to him?" Robin snorted, glaring at the young man. He then drew a deep breath and shook his head. "I apologize. It's been… difficult. I don't know who to trust anymore. And I appreciate the offer, but no. He's the rightful king now, so if he dies, especially before I'm crowned, his son will take over. And I don't want a war. But it was brave all the same." _And incredibly idiotic_, Robin added to himself.

"Oh. Yes. Of course." the foolish young man said. "I'm… just so ashamed of my father… it's because of him that… that…"

Robin realized that the Lord was actually tormented by this and mentally slapped himself for, again, being too wrapped up in himself to see this. "Your father's treachery was not yours. I do not blame you and if someone else does they can take it up with me. You knew nothing so you are innocent."

"Yeah, he knew nothing, unlike others…" Gordon said darkly and nodded to a spot across the room. Robin looked over to see River's father, Duke Blackgate and the younger Blackgate talking to the king, seemingly having a wonderful time. Bryant certainly didn't look ashamed of _his _father. "He'll get even richer now, won't he?" Gordon added a bit sourly.

"Probably," the prince muttered. "Where is Riley, by the way?"

"He was at the ceremony but he's still ordered to rest so he went back to his rooms."

"He must be in pain. I should go see h-" Robin began but was interrupted by a woman's scream.

"Look out!" another voice then shouted.

"He's armed!"

Several voices yelled out at once and Robin twisted around just in time to see someone rushing at him like a bull, a short blade gleaming in his hand. The prince drew his own sword, pushed the young lords out of the way and, as the attackers arm rose, he parried the strike almost effortlessly and answered with one of his own. This time it wasn't a practice sword, however, and the man wasn't wearing armor. The prince felt a rush of terror as the blade he was holding sank into the man's throat.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: Robin is not having a very good week, is he? Well… looking ahead, I can confirm that; he's not. ;) He hasn't even had time to "land" yet, poor kid…


	20. I'd Rather Have a Goddamn Horse

A/N: thank you to **Monster of Cookies** who was my beta this time around!

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A shout-out to the anonymous reviewer **robgray1/gray22 **(the rest of you can skip to the title if you wish, although the below might clear some things up): you have left several reviews (several for the same chapter…), but as you're not logged in I can't really answer them easily. I will try to do so here, but this is an exception; please log in if you have more questions. I'm also available on tumblr (for anonymous questions, if you wish to remain that for whatever reason) and on dA. However, I'm having a bit of a difficulty understanding your English so take extra care when you write me, please, so I don't misunderstand.

You ask good questions though, like how there is no uprising/rebellion around Robin. I've touched a BIT on this and will do a bit more in future chapters, but this is NOT a 'real' historical setting or even "the real world" and the laws the known countries _all_ follow are clear: Slade is the rightful king. He also (from the beginning) has the support of the two biggest land holders of the country, meaning he has their men to use as his soldiers. The basic farmer or fisherman won't start a rebellion unless they are oppressed, after all, and they can't really do so without weapons and armor, and if their lords support the king...? More lords have joined Slade already, because of the riches Blüdhaven has. The most important reason why there has been no word of rebellion yet, though, is simple:, news travels slowly in this time, and its only been _a day_ since the takeover. Not even everyone in Gotham CITY knows about the new king yet! ;)

About his REASONS, you note that they are selfish and they ARE: he needs to expand to get the manpower and the logistics to be able to open up his country, making it richer and stronger, which is the reason companies take over other companies today, after all… Yes, Gotham was a peaceful country (though they had a violent past with Blüdhaven) but that makes it PERFECT to take over… You repeatedly say "check your history", well, I'm basing this loosely on medieval and earlier warfare: these were the times when kingdoms were created by taking over other kingdoms/areas; growing and expanding. This is how the Kingdom of Sweden, where I come from, was created. And about taking over another country effectively, you need look no further than the Romans. After they invaded Brittain, for example, they ruled it successfully for four hundred years, and if it hadn't been for, among other things, political problems back in Rome, making the empire unstable and eventually falling, most of Europe might still be 'Roman' today.

About Bruce fighting him without finding out all his facts: maybe I didn't write it clearly enough, but he was provoked. It was a mistake on his part, but as a very good swordsman, he was also, probably, overconfident. please log in if you have more questions, but keep asking them! I want to know what doesn't make sense and what I need to explain in more detail.

* * *

The title today is a quote from "The Catcher in the Rye" by J.D. Salinger.

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 20: I'd Rather Have a Goddamn Horse. A Horse Is At Least Human, For God's Sake**

Guards were surrounding them both in a moment, separating the prince from his attacker. It was a bit late, though, as the man with the dagger was dead.

"Robin, are you hurt?" Deathstroke was by his side and for a moment, the shortest of seconds, Robin wanted to forget the betrayal and take the comfort he so sorely needed from the man. He steeled himself, however.

"I'm _fine_," he hissed.

"Who is this man, does anyone recognize him?" the king demanded to know in a bark that managed to drown the panicked gibbering in the room.

"I think I've seen him before… belongs to one of the lesser houses, doesn't he?" a man said.

"Everyone who thinks they know the smallest detail about this man, report your knowledge to my valet or General Wintergreen," Slade ordered. "You two, come with me!" he said to a couple of Blüdhaven guards and then took Robin's arm.

"What are you doing? Unhand me at once!" the prince snapped.

"I'm taking you back to your rooms!" the king answered in a low tone.

"Very well, but I can walk by myself!" the young man hissed in return and after some hesitation, he was allowed to do so but not, he noticed, until they had left the crowd behind. He didn't mind their destination, though; he now wished he hadn't left his rooms at all today.

When they arrived, Slade didn't let him enter until his men had searched all the rooms from top to bottom. He also had new instructions for the guards outside the door.

"From now on I only want Blüdhaven men stationed here, and someone will escort every servant or visitor who enters. The prince's valet, Wintergreen and myself are the _only _exceptions, understood?

"Yes, Sir!" the men saluted.

"Good. One of you should go and tell this to your senior officer to make sure he changes the shifts accordingly and informs the others," the king continued. "There was just an assassination attempt on the prince."

"I'll go immediately, Sir!" one of the men said and hurried away just as the other guards declared the rooms clear.

"I'm glad that you at least trust _Alfred_," Robin said sarcastically.

"I wouldn't, normally, but if he wanted you dead you would have never woken up this morning. If he didn't take _that_ chance, it's unlikely that he is your enemy here," the king shrugged.

The prince didn't really know how to reply to that.

After finding himself alone with the man in his rooms, Robin turned towards him, a cold look in his eyes.

"You can go now, Your Majesty."

"Robin, you just killed your first man. I don't think-"

"I don't _care_ what you think, Deathstroke!" the prince yelled, and raised the sword he had had no idea that he was still holding. "Get out or I'll do it again!"

There was a clang and the prince stared disbelievingly at his weapon laying on the floor, wondering how it had ended up there. He cradled his hand, which hurt slightly, and looked up at the king.

"Never pull a blade on me unless you are _very _sure you will win, boy," the man said, his voice slightly amused but his expression was tense.

Robin picked the sword up with a huff and was about to put it back in its scabbard when he saw the blood, still coating the blade.

"You should wipe that off," Slade told him. "Keeping the steel clean is- Robin?"

The young man's face had turned white and the sword once more clattered to the floor as the boy spun around and ran towards his bathroom. He just made it to the bathtub before throwing up.

Slade crouched next to him and rubbed his back soothingly, but the prince did not appreciate the gesture.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" he yelled, his voice hoarse, before throwing up once more. Slade muttered something under his breath and saved the prince's crown before it could fall into the tub as well. He then got the water running, washing away the sick and the smell of it.

Robin shakily got to his feet and grabbed a small towel to wipe his mouth on before going out into his bedroom and to the commode where a pitcher of fresh water always stood. He needed to rinse his mouth to get rid of the taste.

"NO!"

Robin had just poured himself a glass when the man almost knocked it out of his hand.

"What are you DOING?!" he yelled at his former slave.

"Just because there's no assassin in here_ now_, doesn't mean there _hasn't_ been. That water has been there since this morning; _anyone_ could have poured _anything_ into it," Slade explained and went over to the bell straps, calling a kitchen servant to the room.

"Do you have any idea what my mouth tastes like?" the prince growled.

"Pretty bad if it's anything close to what it _smells_ like," the man snorted. "One moment." He went to the front door and soon returned with a water skin from one of the guards. "here," he said, handing it to the prince. "Hopefully it's water. Some soldiers try to get away with stronger stuff, though."

Robin, who had for some reason been thoroughly embarrassed by the fact that the man had told him that he had a bad breath, rinsed his mouth several times. It was only to feel refreshed himself, of course, not for any other reason…

He was feeling quite shaken, and sat down on the edge of his bed. The kitchen servant appeared and the prince only listened as the king gave the man orders to exchange the whole pitcher and take extra care with his food and water from now on. It started to sink in that someone had tried to kill him and, when they were alone again, he couldn't help but ask the question burning in his mind.

"Why me?"

Slade came up him but stopped as Robin drew back.

"I know what happened must have been frightening, Robin, but-"

"I'm not afraid!" Robin snapped, although that was not completely true. "I'm _angry_! Why did he attack me!? It's _YOU_ they should attack! It's_ YOU_ people should hate! Why didn't he try to kill _you_!? This is all _your_ fault, not _mine_!"

"I'm afraid we are both potential targets, Robin-"

"And stop using my name!"

"No. As I said, _Robin_, we are _both _in danger, at least for a while until it all settles down. It makes no sense to me either why someone would target _you_ at this point, though… I'm the one with the power, after all… if anything they should gather _around_ you, trying to start a rebellion…" Robin glanced away at that, confirming that something along those lines had already happened. "I hope you understand it would lead to civil war?" the man pointed out clearly. "Not all of Gotham would be on your side; many of the nobles already see riches in the future from this alliance, they would stand with me."

"I know and that's why I turned the offer down! It was only a misplaced show of loyalty anyway. Ill thought through and based on anger. I'm not an idiot, Your Majesty, no matter _what_ you might think of me."

"I don't think you're an idiot… I just think you are young…" the man said with a small smile. He got a glare back.

"Would you get out of my rooms now?" the prince then asked, sounding more tired than anything.

"I don't think I should leave you alone. I'll call Alfred and-"

"No! I dismissed him for the night after the ceremony. He needs to rest," Robin said.

"Then I'll stay."

"That's very generous of you but you have a kingdom to run. Oh, and I can't stand to be around you," the prince growled.

"You will have to get used to it sooner or later," the man shrugged.

"I don't see why we would have to see each other again until the wedding," Robin sniffed. "And our rooms are on different sides of the castle, so I'm pretty sure I can avoid you _afterwards_ too."

The man gave him an incredulous look when he said that but then shook his head like he decided against saying something.

"I'm not trying to annoy you, Robin, but you might need to talk about what just happened."

"No."

"Well, then, let me. It was self defense. You had every right. Also, those who witnessed how you handled yourself will think twice before attacking you themselves. You did well."

Robin kept looking away, his fingers pulling on a lace cuff.

"He wanted to kill me," he eventually said.

"He did," the man nodded.

"I still don't understand why!"

"We'll find out. The fact that he's dead just means it will take a little longer. We'll have a name soon if we don't already. We'll know _everything_ about this man. Maybe he acted alone, having some crazy reason or other, or maybe he was sent by someone else. Whatever was behind this we'll find the reason and make sure it won't happen again."

"Maybe keeping me alive won't be as beneficial as you thought it would be," Robin muttered.

"Oh," Slade smirked, though the prince couldn't see it. "I wouldn't say that."

Slade eventually agreed to at least withdraw to the front sitting room from where he set up a temporary office of sorts, meeting with his men, local nobles and staff members to make sure everything was at least beginning to run smoothly again. He had changed out of his official robes and the crown was back in the treasury. Instead he wore the every-day crown of Blüdhaven, which was similar in style to the simple gold band Bruce had worn. Instead of a smooth round band of metal, however, Slade's crown consisted of hammered red gold and rose to a small tip at the front.

There were a million decisions to be made and, as he hadn't set up any kind of real delegation order yet, everyone tended to come to him. For everything.

"Did the late king really set the dinner menu every night, Chef?" he asked the man in front of him at the moment.

"Well… No, Your Highness, but… without knowing your preferences…"

"I'm not fond of radishes."

"My Lord?" the chef blinked.

"Try to avoid dishes with too much radish, and I'll eat it. I've been eating with the staff in the kitchen since I got here, and sharing meals with the prince as well. I know the quality of cooking throughout this castle is outstanding and I have no complaints what so ever. I can't, however, take the time to plan every meal especially as I have overheard the prince say that you are an expert in that area."

"I… he did, Sir? Well… I... Thank you, Sir!" the man gushed.

"He did. And if it's not too much to ask… if His Highness' favorite dishes would happen to be on the menu for a few days, that would be appreciated. He might not have much of an appetite at the moment, but we should do what we can to help that along, shouldn't we?"

"Yes, My Lord! I'll start dinner at once!" the man bowed and scurried out like he couldn't wait.

* * *

Robin felt somewhat trapped as dinner time was coming closer. He was still in his bedroom and didn't want to leave it, because _he_ was out there. Keeping the door closed helped, though, as he didn't have to hear more than a faint murmur of voices. He had tried to read but given up. Sleep wouldn't come to him either, though he had curled up on the bed, just wanting the day to be over. What _had _come, though, were tears. Not the hysterical kind from the day before, but silent ones which wasn't as easily defendable but hurt just as much.

Why did Deathstroke have to do all this? It was _his_ fault someone had tried to kill him, _his _fault Robin now had to remember the sight and feeling of having his blade sink into someone else's throat for the rest of his life. He wished he had never_ seen_ the man. No, he wished he would have really _been_ a slave. He knew this was all self pity, but he _was_ going to do his duty to his country so hadn't he _earned_ the right to feel sorry for himself?

The country would most likely end up being fine. Robin hated to admit it, but he had seen more leadership skills in Deathstroke today then he had ever seen in his father. He wasn't worried about his people or the castle anymore… but he was worried about himself. Not because of any danger he might be in… the king obviously needed him for something and went out of his way to protect his 'investment', so physically he would be fine… but he had lost his way out now, lost that beautiful dream he had about leaving the city behind and raise horses… Robin let out a dry chuckle and sat up. _Leaving the city and raise horses?_ What kind of pathetic, childish dream was that? Deathstroke must have laughed his head off behind Robin's back when he… when he had talked about it… another sob racked his body. He had babbled on, hadn't he? Made plans… telling his slave how they both would have to work hard… more or less telling him that he would reward the man by letting him… The prince shivered. No. He didn't want to think about any of that. It was hard enough to remember how close he had _felt _to the man, but to think about how close they had _been_…? No. Deathstroke would never get to touch him again. Ever. He would have to make that clear.

The key was still burning in his pocket too. He already knew there was no point in trying to leave his rooms today, though… and maybe not until after the funeral. All he could hope for was that Deathstroke was too busy to notice that it was gone. Robin would make sure to always put the key in his pocket every morning, just in case an opportunity arose. For now he hid it in his dresser where his thicker stockings were stored. As it was spring it wasn't likely Alfred would even open that drawer, and even if he did, Robin doubted his valet would rat on him. He had also hidden his mother's necklace, the little silver Robin, there when he had returned home from the hunting trip and he touched it briefly now, asking her for the strength and courage he would need. He felt she would have approved, somehow.

For a moment he entertained the thought of enlisting his valet's help and sending _him_ down to the work room, but no… it would be considered treason, he was sure, so if anyone was going to commit that crime it was going to be Robin himself.

The prince had just washed up and made himself look somewhat presentable again when there was a knock on the door.

"Dinner, Your Highness," the king's voice called.

Despite everything Robin's stomach growled a little and he reluctantly went out into the sitting room to find the small table he usually had breakfast at, set for two.

"You _don't_ have to stay," he told the man, his voice saying 'go away'.

"You can't make me eat in the bedroom anymore, Robin," the king said with an amused look.

"Don't-! Don't even…" Robin sat down at the table then, heavily, tired of it all. "I wish… I wish you had changed your mind about being king."

"Well, as lovely as that stud farm sounde-"

"_I'll_ eat in the bedroom, _good night_!" Robin said, grabbing his plate and getting to his feet. He found himself pushed back into place by the man, however.

"Stay. What was it this time?"

"Oh, I don't know… just that I don't want to sit here while you make _fun _of my dreams! I _know_ they were naïve, but they were the first dreams I ever had! The first time I could ask myself what _I_ wanted to do!" the prince snarled.

"I didn't find your dreams naïve, Robin. Raising and selling Blüdhaven Warhorses as you planned to do was a viable idea," the man sat down on his side of the table now, taking the lid off the nearest pot to help himself.

"It… was? You… think the plans would have worked?" Robin gaped. It was like hearing Bryant saying something nice… although that had never happened as far as he could remember.

"Certainly, especially if you could establish yourself as the only breeder outside of Blüdhaven."

"Yes, well… I'll never know, now," Robin murmured.

"Says who? Wintergreen still owes you those ten horses…"

"But… I can't… I mean… I'm the… I can't abdicate and- can I?"

"No, but who says a prince can't breed horses?"

"But… I would need land… a farm… there's not enough room here, and…"

"I'm sure it's possible to find a place not too far away. Or build one. The crown has no shortage of land, after all."

"That… sounds… that sounds _great_!" the prince said and gave the man a real smile for the first time since the day before.

"I'm glad you like the idea," Slade smiled back, hoping this would settle things between them quicker.

"Yes… with a place of my own I _really_ wouldn't have to see you at _all_," Robin nodded happily almost to himself.

"Well, I-" the man began, but was interrupted by the prince.

"Aw… the chef made one of my favorite dishes… He's so considerate! His King could learn a thing or two from him," the prince added with a sniff as he started eating.

* * *

"Things going well?" Wintergreen asked his friend during lunch the next day.

"Yes, excellent. It shows that we've had some training… uniting Blüdhaven, I mean. We learned from our mistakes there. It helps that we have Blackgate's and Sprang River's full support too… they alone have enough manpower to make the other regions think once or twice before-"

"I meant on a more…_ personal_ level. How's the little missus?"

"I don't think he would appreciate to be called that and… hating my guts. Is it possible for white hair to turn gray, you think?"

"Well, his father isn't even buried yet… these things take time."

"He's not mourning Bruce, at least not in the traditional way… this isn't about his father, it's about me… I betrayed him, after all, and he can't forgive that. Not yet. I gave him a horse farm, for goodness sake and-"

"You did what?"

"Not literally… I more promised him that he could have one… He got really happy."

"Well… that's good then, surely?"

"Happy he wouldn't have to see me again."

"He _has _understood that you will be married, hasn't he?"

"I'm not sure it has fully sunken in, no…" Slade muttered.

"Does he think it will only be about a ceremony? Signing a document? Does he understand that you want… more?"

"Maybe not."

"Then you should make it clear to him."

"Yes, _that_ will smooth things over…" Slade snorted.

"I'm serious. The marriage contract has to be written up and signed before the wedding, after all, the sooner the better… unless…"

"Unless?"

"You can't consider a marriage in name only?"

"No."

"Slade, you wanted to save his life. You _can_. Maybe you can't get everything you want out of it, but-"

"I _will _get what I want," Slade said firmly.

"Fine, but maybe the smartest thing is to step back, let him settle. Give him some space. A year or two from now…?"

"No. I know it sounds like a good idea, but time would only push us further apart. He might hate me, but at least he- At least he's _here_. Not off on some farm somewhere. I'll get him used to me, I'll _make_ him accept me."

"Well… you already conquered a country this year, I think you are setting your sights too high with a prince as well…" Wintergreen said. He didn't expect the grin that appeared on the king's face, though.

"Like I said…" Slade smirked, "he's a challenge."

* * *

That morning Robin's valet was in the room as he so often was, preparing his clothes and such, but today the man slammed the drawers loud enough to wake the prince up.

"Alfred?" Robin muttered.

"Care you explain to me why I wasn't told when you were almost _murdered_ yesterday, Your Highness?" the man all but growled.

"You…" Robin blinked, not really having been prepared to be chastened for getting attacked. "You were tired, I didn't want you to be up all night again!"

"Well, you should have told me! Good thing Sla- I mean, His Majesty, was able to get you to safety!"

"I wasn't really in danger after-"

"You are _not _leaving your rooms today, the castle is on high alert."

"But with a guard-"

"No, Your Highness. Besides, we have a lot to plan."

Robin groaned. "What now?"

"Well, a birthday party won't turn into a wedding _automatically_… and there should be a formal engagement feast once the marriage contract is written and signed. Have you started thinking about your conditions for that yet?"

"Alfred, it's just a ceremony…" Robin sighed. "The king won't make a big thing about it, surely?"

"On the contrary. The wedding will cement his right to the throne, after all; he's planning to show that off."

"Why? People will laugh! A wedding between two men..?!"

"Apparently it is legal in his country. One of his soldiers who knows more about it has been made available to me to help with the planning," the valet told him. "And I've heard whispers in the castle that your wedding won't be the only one of this kind this year."

"…let me guess who…" Robin muttered dryly and then he sighed. "I suppose I won't be able to talk him out of it… this is all part of his plan, after all…"

"I'm glad you're taking this much more calmly now," the old man smiled approvingly. "I'm sure His Majesty won't make things harder for you than he has to."

"He's actually offered me a farm," Robin perked up as he remembered this. "I'll be doing something I've dreamed about and I don't have to see him. That's nice, considering he's a lying deceitful bastard…"

"Were… were those his words? That you didn't have to see him, I mean?" Alfred asked carefully as he began helping the young man dress.

"No, but so what? He won't need me anymore after the wedding; he's set then."

"Yes, but I got the impression that…" the man seemed to hesitate. "Never mind, Sir. The contract, then?"

"I don't care, let _him _write it… I'll just sign it and get it over with…" Robin shrugged.

"But Sir, a marriage contract is important! For both parties!"

"Yes, but he already got the whole country as a dowry, he can't really ask for _more_, can he?" the prince snorted. "And what is the rest about? Children? I somehow doubt we will have any."

"The contract for a marriage like this can be quite… detailed. It is all what you both expect from each other… also, you might want to protect your personal assets."

"Yes… well, I guess… Can we have a treasurer look them over and give me a list?" Robin asked. He had planned to do this anyway, if his plans to abdicate had become reality.

"Certainly, Sir."

"Other than that, I expect you to handle most of it… If you're too busy, get a magistrate to help. And hire as many extra hands as you need, Deathstroke will be paying the bill anyway…" Robin added with a smirk.

"As you wish, Sir, but… if I might offer some advice…?"

"Yes?"

"I think His Majesty… that is… it's understandable that you are not fond of him at the moment, but-"

"No." Robin raised a hand. "I'm sorry, but I won't listen. I will_ not_ forgive that man, and I want as little to do with him as possible."

"Understood. Breakfast should be ready in the sitting room now, Sir," the old man nodded.

* * *

"So… how about tomorrow?" Robin asked after eating.

"Everything is ready for the funeral, Sir, and the family tomb has been prepared. The service will start at ten in the chapel and end with a small lunch. Only the most influential have been invited to both and security is, of course, of the foremost importance."

"I just want the whole thing over with… huh, I'd like _all _the ceremonies in the future just over with…" Robin sighed.

"To arrange a funeral for your late father and treat his body with respect is admirable, though, My Lord, considering-"

"_Please_ would you stop speaking _well _of the king?!" Robin said in a frustrated growl.

"Yes, My Lord, but Bruce's body might just as well ended up on the dung heaps… or his head on a spike at the castle gates," the valet pointed out.

Robin remembered what his former slave had said about display of power at a takeover, that it made sense, and shivered. If that was the man's opinion, things _could _have been worse.

"I guess… but don't let this trick you! It's all about trying show people that he's really a 'benevolent king'. He's not. He's just putting on this show to gain followers so everything will go smoother for him."

"If you say so, My Lord," Alfred answered ambiguously.

* * *

The day went by at a snail's pace for Robin who had begun to hate his rooms. In the afternoon one of his tutors stopped by but the prince dismissed him. He was in a foul mood and it didn't get better when the king decided to intrude after dinner.

"I heard you sent your tutor away," was the man's opening statement.

"And what of it? What good is studying now?" Robin muttered.

"Ah, so you prefer to be seen as a simpleton as soon as you open your mouth about important matters?" the man smirked.

"You might be able to confine me to my rooms, but you can't tell me what to _do_!" The prince had had just about enough for once day, and this was the last straw.

"I can. After all, I _am_ your king," Slade said calmly but sternly.

"But not my father! Don't you _dare_ try to control my life!"

The king seemed to take a deep breath and then closed the distance between the two of them until he towered over the youth.

"Listen carefully, little prince. From now on I _am_ your life, and you better behave or-"

The back of Robin's hand connected with the man's face. What the prince hadn't expected, however, was for the strike to be returned. Immediately, and with quite a lot of strength behind it. Enough, even, so that Robin stumbled and fell to the floor.

"You… you…" he glared up at the man in a mix of anger and fear.

"I hit you back. Yes. It disgusts me. I've never hit a family member before in my life. Well… not a_ close_ one, no more than spanking my sons once or twice, but you crossed the line."

"I'm _not _your family!" Robin spat. His eyes were burning with tears, more from the shock than the pain, and he hated himself for it. He clumsily got to his feet, though, but backed away when the king took a step towards him.

"Not yet. But you will be."

"Never! I'll never be a _barbarian_ like you! How dare you pretend to be a king! You're a_ thug_, not a nobleman!"

"If your definition of a nobleman is one from_ this_ court, I'd rather be a thug," the man smirked. "But you forget one thing, Robin; I was _born_ a prince… unlike _you_."

"Get _out_. GET OUT, GET _OUT_, _GET OUT_!" the young man yelled and pointed at the door.

"Yes, I have some work to do… but I'll be back early tomorrow morning, and we'll have a talk about this," the man said dryly. "You might want to think about your behavior until then."

This time Robin didn't care if it was childish; as the door closed behind the man, a porcelain figurine crashed against it.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

_A/N: _*lol* my dear beta was SO PISSED at Slade after the last scene… are you too? When I wrote it I thought it was a bit… harsh… maybe, but it kinda served Robin right… she made me see it from another P.O.V, though, but I still kept it, of course… Robin being pissed off is a necessity right now… because pissed off people act very reasonable and never do anything stupid… do they?


	21. It's a Lot Like Nuts and Bolts

A/N: Thank you to **Jayto** for being my beta this time!

Today's title is a quote from Nicholas Evans, but thanks to a review by **Baruga** it also has a subtitle**: "Robin's Gonna Do Something Amazingly Moronic And Get Himself Stuck In Irreversible Deep Shit". **Yup.

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 21: It's a Lot Like Nuts and Bolts - If the Rider's Nuts, the Horse Bolts! **

No matter what you felt for them during their life, waking up on the morning of a parent's funeral is always going to create a feeling that you will carry with you for the rest of your life. Robin's thoughts were preoccupied with these emotions, so he didn't remember the king's words until he entered the sitting room and saw the man waiting for him.

"Go away," the prince almost sighed. "It's my father's funeral today, can't you just leave me alone?"

"No. How's your cheek?"

"How's _yours_?" Robin sneered.

"Maybe you shouldn't_ remind_ your King of your act of treason?" the man smirked.

Robin just turned away from him in disgust and sat down to eat his breakfast. Unfortunately the man joined him.

"I have two things to discuss with you this morning. Your attitude, which I have noticed has not improved, and the attack on you."

"As I am holding cutlery, could we start with the attack? Or we'll have another royal funeral soon," Robin said in a fake cheerful way.

"Yes, but it wouldn't be _mine_…" the man muttered darkly. "Bringing up your parents last night was maybe a bit…uncalled for. I apologize," Slade said, receiving a curt nod from the prince before continuing. "Your attacker has been identified. His name was Fredrik Viceroy, is the name familiar?"

"No, not really… I think I've heard the family name, but I can't place it," Robin mused, deciding to be civil for _this _conversation at least. "How come he was even there? I thought the gathering was for the more… important people."

"All houses had the right to attend... I'm not going to exclude anyone at this point… but he didn't spend much time at court, nor do any of his kin. He was a low ranking aristocrat with quite a few problems. He drank… gambled…"

"And hated me, obviously."

"Not according to his widow. She claims he never even spoke ill of royalty when he was drunk… and on those occasions he seemed to speak ill of everyone."

"Widow… great… did he have children as well?"

"Quite a few."

"Can… that is… can something be sent to them?"

"Is that such a good idea?"

"Well, judging by what you have told me the attack wasn't his idea. Someone put him up to it."

"Interesting. That was my feeling too."

"Then see to it that they are compensated in some way," Robin ordered. The king merely smirked and nodded at being given a command. The prince didn't even notice he was doing it, though, as he was busy thinking. "A drunk and a gambler… that means he has debts. Probably big ones."

"Yes."

"So look for someone who has pockets deep enough to easily cover them. That would be incentive enough for the assassination attempt, perhaps."

"Very good Robin, that's exactly what we are doing," the man smiled.

"Don't be condescending, it didn't take a genius," the prince snorted.

"I didn't intend to-" the man began, but then seemed to change his mind. "Anyway, we're looking into it."

Robin didn't answer and focused on his food instead. His stomach felt a bit tight and he wasn't really hungry, but there wasn't anything else to do _but_ eat. He didn't really want to continue talking to the king, after all. Eventually he found that he had a question, however.

"If you want to run my life, maybe you can explain to me what my duties are now… will I have audiences as usual?"

"No… not quite yet, at least. Not on your own in any case… the matter of your title is still being discussed."

"Discussed? I'm a prince! On my eighteenth birthday I will be old enough to be crowned and-"

"No."

"No?" Robin stared at the man incredulously.

"If Bruce was still alive you would have remained a prince until the time of his death."

"Yes, but he's not, and-"

"No, _I _took his crown. _I'm_ the king, Robin, a country can only have one ultimate ruler."

"I see," the young man's voice was cold.

"You seem very upset for someone who was planning his abdication."

The prince sat up straighter. "That's it! I'll abdicate! You're crowned, so why can't I just abdicate and leave? Forget this 'marriage', I could-"

"No."

"I'm beginning to _hate_ hearing that word. Why _not_?"

"Sometimes I think you haven't heard it _enough_ in your life," Slade snorted. "I became king based on my binding vow to marry you. If I don't, the laws will unravel. Unless you die."

"You could take the chance that no one will oppose you? I mean with your army outside the gates-"

"There is no army."

"What? But I was told that you said-"

"A lie to push Bruce into accepting a duel. I _have_ forces, Robin, a small unit is on its way here to act as security for the wedding."

"But… how many men do you have here right now?"

"Around fifty of my own. Blackgate and Sprang River's men more than cover what I need to keep the peace though. Most military forts lay within their jurisdiction, and thus, now, under mine. Adding the Lords who now actively support me and not just sworn their fidelity, I would say that I have full control over about eighty percent of the swords in this country. It doesn't mean that I trust them, but…"

"But you took over the castle with just fifty?! You could all have been slaughtered!"

"With better security, yes," the man smirked. "Which is why I needed to be on the inside. Close to the court. I hope you understand that?"

Robin leaned back in his chair and met the man's gaze dead on.

"I understand your _reasons_, yes. But that doesn't change what you _did_. I need you to understand something, Deathstroke…"

"Yes?" the man asked, as the pause seemed to drag out.

"You betrayed me. _Me_," the prince emphasized calmly. "You have reasons for what you did; sensible and logical reasons. You needed this country to take advantage of Blüdhaven's wealth, you needed to be able to move around the castle somewhat freely and be privy the any plans the royalty had. I understand. But you weren't just a servant or a slave to me, Your Majesty. You could have stayed impersonal, but instead you… didn't. You had me _trust_ you. Open up to you. Tell you all my hopes and fears. Make me feel… _seen_… listened to… and it was all a lie. All of it. You meant nothing of it,_ I_ meant nothing to you… and this is what I need you to understand: I. Hate. You. Notice that I'm not screaming. I'm not even very angry. I hate you, I despise you and I loathe you. You are the lowest piece of scum on this earth for what you did to me and I will make you pay, somehow… I will stand by you so the country won't become damaged, yes, but in private? Don't for a single moment think that we will become _friends_, Deathstroke. Don't fool yourself into believing that I'm_ really_ on your side. You might have spared the prince's life, but as far as _you _are concerned Robin died that day, and so… did Slade." The prince rose slowly from his seat. "I believe it's time to follow my father to his final rest."

* * *

The service was long-winded and dull. Many noblemen held speeches and Robin couldn't help but snort as one after the other managed to somehow praise the late king while not disrespecting the current one. Fortunately, due to 'security reasons' he didn't have to hold a speech himself. In fact, the front part of the chapel where he and the king were sitting was completely surrounded by guards, so they were cut off from prying eyes, which was nice, even though the intimacy it created wasn't. The king hadn't said a word since they left Robin's chambers and for some reason the prince found himself feeling slightly guilty. He couldn't understand that feeling; all he had told the man had been the truth and why would the king care anyway?

He couldn't get away from the man's shadow, however, as they were seated together during the meal afterward. They both conversed politely with the people on their other side, but they never spoke to each other.

* * *

"And if you don't find a better attitude you will be chasing your head across the courtyard," Slade growled at the rapidly paling man. "Dismissed."

Wintergreen, who had just arrived at the king's private study, stepped aside to let the chastised man leave before arching an eyebrow at his friend.

"In a bad mood, Sir?"

"Captain Sinclair has been giving me trouble from the start. Nothing big, not at all, but things seem to take an unnecessary long time… and the _excuses_…"

"Talking about excuses, you haven't seen a certain young man in two days."

"Was there something else?" the king said pointedly.

His friend sighed and left a report on his desk. "Just a few numbers. They look good to me. But Slade-"

"No."

"Yes." The general rested his knuckles on the desk and leaned over it. "You have sent me on errands to the prince for two days. If he's under your skin like that… I mean, I quite like the little brat, but maybe you should just…"

"Do what? Execute him?" Slade snorted.

"No… but take what you _want_ from him. Get him out of your system."

"Are you talking about rape?"

"So were you, when you first saw him, remember?"

"He was the enemy then… and annoying as all hell."

"Ah, I see… and now he's just lovely? Oh, by the way, he wanted me to give you a message."

"Oh? What?"

"Well… let's see… Oh, yes, 'tell the savage that I'm going out riding now, whether he wants me to or not'."

"What? When was this?"

"Oh… less than ten minutes or so ago I think… He'll have guards with him, though, so why-"

But the king was already on his way out the door.

"Stop!"

The stable boy holding the prince's horse almost pissed himself at the king's angry command. The prince, however, only looked annoyed.

"Well, it_ has_ been a nice couple of days…" he muttered, loud enough for Slade to hear.

"My Lord?" the guard, who was about to mount his own horse said, bowing quickly. "Is something wrong?"

"Who told you the Prince was allowed to go out riding?"

"_You _did, Deathstroke," the price answered for the guard. "You said I couldn't go riding for 'a few days'. It's _been _'a few days', hence; I'm going riding."

"You should have asked_ me_," the man growled.

The guard looked very worried. "I'm sorry, I got the impression that-"

"Yes, I understand. I'm taking your horse. I'll escort the prince personally," Slade decided.

"Dead set on ruining my whole day, aren't you?" Robin snorted and then set off.

Slade swung up on his horse and followed. He didn't catch up to him until they were well out into the countryside.

"Stay back!" the prince snapped as the king rode up beside him. "You can babysit me from a distance!"

"Dax is not happy with how you're riding him. Don't let you anger out on your horse, Robin. You're better than that."

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" the boy yelled and pushed his heels into the horse's flanks. He used his crop as well, harder than necessary. Slade had read the stallion correctly though and Dax was not having it. He suddenly stopped dead and then bucked. The prince was not ready and flew over the horse's head. Slade just managed to stop his own steed before it ran over the boy.

Robin rolled over a few times and ended up on his stomach. Slade jumped from the saddle as Dax decided to bolt. The man didn't care about the horse right now, however, as he kneeled down next to the prince.

"Robin..?"

"Go. Away."

Slade smirked. Ah, probably only his pride hurt, then. Good. Because he had had enough of the boy's insolence.

"Up," he said and grabbed the neck of the young man's riding jacket, lifting him straight off the ground.

"You-!" the boy was still holding his riding crop and seemed to remember what he had used it for before, because it came swishing towards the man's face.

"I don't think so," Slade said and grabbed his hand. "But I'll borrow this," he added and yanked it out of Robin's grip.

He led the prince with one hand and his horse in the other until he came to a tree big enough to tie the horse to. He then continued over to the next, a slightly bigger one, and pushed the prince against it, face first.

"You know you should have asked me first before leaving the castle," he said.

"You would have just said no!"

"I would have come _with_ you."

"Like you would take the time!"

Slade had expected an answer more along the lines that the prince didn't want him there, but as before, when the boy was in a frenzy like this he was more likely to speak directly from his heart.

"I'm not like your father. I'll always have time for you," he told him sternly, but with a soft undertone.

"Well… I… I don't want you to!" the prince sneered. Slade nodded to himself. There it was.

"Well, that's too bad. I can't let you run around without any retribution, though, I hope you understand that?"

"What… what do you mean?" Robin asked, trying to struggle out of the grip but to no avail.

"You keep acting like a spoiled child, so you should get a spoiled child's punishment. Lower your breeches."

"What?! No!"

"_Now_, Robin, or I'm just going to add to the number of strikes. If you keep resisting you won't be able to ride for a while anyway. If you comply it will soon be over. Just five swipes."

"Let me go, you filthy-!"

"Ten then."

"No!"

"Too late. Lower your breeches now or it's going to be fifteen." The man gave the prince a few seconds to think it over and then shrugged. "Well, I guess it will be fift-"

"No! Wait! I'll…" the boy grudgingly unbuttoned the front of his pants and even though Slade couldn't see his face, he noticed that the boy's ears had turned bright red.

"Lower them. Lower," Slade instructed and then saw that pert and rather perfect ass again for the first time in almost a week. It was a nice sight. He decided not to mar it too much. "Good. Ten strikes then."

"Not- not too hard?" Robin asked, sounding rather pitiful.

"What good would a punishment be if I were too easy on you?" Slade asked. "Have you never been spanked before?"

"N-No."

"Very well. I'll use my palm for the first five strikes and the riding crop for the last five then."

"B-But-!"

Slade, however, wasn't going to discuss things any further. He pushed the crop into his boot for easy access before grabbing the boy's neck, having him bend over and brace himself against the trunk of the tree. The man then let his hand fall. He didn't put too much power behind the strikes, but judging by the way the prince yelped it still hurt a lot.

"No! No that's too hard! You can't-"

-SLAP!-

"No! Stop! I won't-"

-SLAP!-

"No-!"

-SLAP!-

"PLEASE!" The boy started sobbing, but Slade carried on, and after the next strike he switched to the crop. This had the boy _really_ yowling.

"There," he said after the last strike was dealt. "You may pull up your breeches." The prince did so, quickly. He was sobbing but tried to hide it. Slade noticed all the same, of course. "Robin," he said and turned the boy around to face him, the red-rimmed tear-filled eyes glared at him accusingly. "I've only spanked my oldest son three times, my youngest only once. All four times had one thing in common; they had knowingly disobeyed their mother or me. I never punished them for accidents or for making mistakes; you learn from those on your own, but there's a certain kind of disobedience that goes _beyond_ just testing boundaries and you crossed that line today, do you understand that?" Robin looked away and the man smiled. "Good. I see that you do. We're going back now. I'll send some people out to search for Dax in case he hasn't returned already. You'll have to ride with me."

"OW! Ow-ow… it _hurts_!" Robin groaned as the saddle came up to meet his sore behind with every step the horse took. Though it wasn't only the saddle. Deathstroke was sitting behind him and was much too close for comfort.

"It's not too far, I'm sure you can manage," the man said, his voice sounding smug in the prince's ear.

Robin, who didn't have the stirrups so he could stand up and spare his tender skin, tried to relive his discomfort by placing his hands on the man's thighs instead and held himself up slightly. One of the kings' arms was wrapped around his middle, making sure he couldn't fall off. The contact between them, the way they moved together, the way he could hear and feel the man's breath in his ear… it all reminded him of what they used to do. The mix of memories and feelings were confusing, to say the least, but the prince just gritted his teeth together and focused on the fact that it would be over soon.

The punishment had been painful and embarrassing but a tiny, tiny part of him had to admit that he had deserved it. He had known the king wouldn't approve and still he had not only done it _anyway_, he had also rubbed it in his face by telling the General about it. Well… the king hadn't come to see him since the funeral lunch ended, so why would he care now? He had more important things to do, surely? That was what Robin had been told growing up, anyway; a king never had time for things like family… like him. Deathstroke explaining to him that he was not his father and then punishing him like one didn't make things less bewildering, however.

There was a big fuss when they rode into the courtyard as Dax had just returned and a rescue party was about to be deployed. Robin's face was still red after dismounting and it didn't get better when he heard people snickering. He glared in the direction of the sound to see two stable hands walking away. They might not be laughing at him, but it reignited his anger.

"I'll take you back to your rooms, Your Highness," Slade said next to him.

Robin drew a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his voice amiable.

"Actually, Your Majesty, if you wouldn't mind… may I take one of the guards with me? I wish to visit the crypts."

"Very well, you may," the man answered approvingly. "I would like to have dinner with you tonight, though."

"Of course. Just send word to Alfred when and where," Robin nodded. "You, guard! Come with me!"

"Yes, Your Highness!" the man saluted.

"What's your name, soldier?" Robin asked as they headed towards the crypt.

"Birch, Sir."

"Wintergreen, Oak, Birch… do all of you Blüdhaven-people have plant-names?" he smirked.

"Plants and types of rock are quite common, Sir," the guard replied calmly like he hadn't noticed the jibe.

Robin felt a bit bad for letting his annoyance out on a fairly innocent man and remind quiet for the rest of the walk.

He stayed an appropriate amount of time outside the Wayne family crypt where his father had been entombed, fingering the key he always put in his pocket in the mornings. He then headed back to the guard who had stayed at an respectful distance from him, after making sure no one else was in there with them.

"Let's go back to my rooms, Birch. I have to prepare for dinner with the King."

"Yes, Sir, but… aren't we going the wrong way?"

"You are new to the castle. This way isn't longer and it's usually fewer people here. But it's a bit dark."

"Here, we'll take this lamp," the guard said unhooking one of the oil lanterns that had been hanging on the wall.

"I'll take it, you better have your hands free if something should happen," Robin said, leading the way, smirking slightly. When they were about to pass the door to the late king's work room, which was unmarked and looked purposefully uninteresting, the prince gasped and stopped dead.

"Did you see that?"

"What, My Lord?" the guard asked, drawing his sword.

"A shadow… someone ran around the corner over there, I'm sure of it!" Robin said, sounding afraid.

"Stay here, I'll check it out," Birch said and carefully made his way down the hall.

* * *

Birch was an experienced solider, young but not stupid. However, he didn't expect the young man he was protecting to try to get rid of him. Still, when he heard the door slam behind him he knew at once that that was what had happened.

"Your Highness? Your Highness open the door!" he called out, rattling the handle. The door was much firmer than it had initially seemed, though, and the lock looked strange. He tried to break it down but to no avail. After hesitating for a second he swore and started running. The king would have to deal with this, even if it meant his own hide. Luckily he ran into two comrades on patrol just as he entered the next corridor. He filled them in quickly and told them to make sure the prince wouldn't run off again, then he continued on to the king.

* * *

Slade had just finished a short audience when Wintergreen came up to him.

"The letter arrived, Sir," he said.

"What letter?" Slade asked.

"The letter about the letter, I assume," the General answered. "From Grant?"

Slade had looked at the man like he had gone crazy for a moment but then the coin dropped and he took the folded and sealed papers. "The Prince's parents, yes. I'll read this lat-" Slade tensed as someone entered the throne room running. Several swords were pointing at the man instantly. He didn't seem to notice, however, and when Slade recognized him as the guard who had escorted Robin, he stood up.

"The Prince?"

"Your Majesty… you better come with me!"

Slade did and the guard explained on the way.

"Do you know where that door leads?" the king asked.

"No, but it had a really strange lock."

"Damn it!" Slade barked and tore an ancient battle ax off the wall as he passed it. He knew where it led now and he had a pretty good feeling that he knew what the prince was trying to do.

* * *

Robin slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside. He heard the guard trying to open it and then curse before running away. The prince looked around frantically. He had hoped the guard would stay outside, at least for a little longer, but now it seemed like he was even shorter on time than he had first thought.

He had never been in here before and it was bigger than he expected. There wasn't just _one_ room, by the looks of it, but the one he was in opened up to at _least_ one more, hidden by darkness. Robin put the lamp down on a table, then used it to quickly light some of the other ones he could find, and there were a lot of them.

He then glanced around, trying to decide what to do. The place was a mess, which was surprising. His father had always seemed very neat to him, but maybe the clutter was a sign that this had been his true passion.

Robin knew he didn't have a lot of time and he would never be able to destroy any of the wooden or metal things scattered around the room. What he _could_ destroy, though, was the notes and drawings. He gathered up everything he could find, even crumpled parchments on the floor, and then looked around wildly. There wasn't a fireplace in here! After searching for a while, losing valuable time, he spotted a small iron stove built into the wall in the next room. Instead of trying to get all the papers into the stove, however, he put them in a large cauldron which was standing on top of it, jamming them all in there. He then used a single page, lit it on a lamp and dropped it in.

At first the other papers just caught fire, but then smoke began billowing out of the cauldron and into the room. The chimney didn't seem big enough to draw it all out, or maybe it was closed off. Robin didn't really know how these things worked, they were the servant's responsibility.

He_ did_ realize that this was too much smoke for just some papers to make, however, and the color of the flames were a strange bluish green. Robin coughed and moved away as more and more smoke started to fill the room. Not good. Not good at all. The cauldron was practically roaring and spitting now, sounding like it could blow apart at any second, but he could barely see it anymore. He had to get out. Putting an arm over his mouth and nose he turned and ran. Suddenly he almost hit a wall. There shouldn't be a wall there! Robin spun around, tears streaming down his face from the stinging smoke. Did he take a wrong turn? Wasn't this the inner room? Was there another one? _Where was the door!?_

* * *

"There's smoke!" were the words greeting Slade as he finally arrived at the scene. The guards were trying to break the door down now, but hadn't gotten far.

"Get water!" the king ordered as he lifted the axe and swung it into the side of the lock again and again, until the handle broke, then he threw his weight against it instead. After the fifth of sixth time it finally gave way and the man was met with a wall of smoke.

"Robin!"

He heard coughing not far away, but it sounded weak. As the smoke finally had somewhere else to go than up the thin chimney, it made it easier to see and it didn't take long to find the boy on the floor, half curled in on himself. Slade swept him up and ran out of there, leaving his men to deal with the fire, which, thankfully, didn't seem to be spreading.

"Open all the windows, he has breathed in smoke! And get the physician!"

Robin heard the order being called out through a haze. He wasn't sure where he was or what was happening, but he felt himself being put down onto a bed and then nice, cold air seemed to fill the room, making it easier to breathe, though his throat was sore.

Someone was tearing at his stock tie and it wasn't Alfred's gentle touch. It came away, though, and then his shirt was opened, almost ripped. Robin's eyes opened slightly, _what was all the fuss about?_ The man looking down at him seemed worried and at first Robin couldn't quite place him. Then he remembered clothing being discarded and what that usually led to and smiled lazily, lifting a hand to the man's face.

"Slade…" he mumbled as the man's name suddenly occurred to him. He pulled him closer and closer until their lips met.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: Smoke inhalation: symptoms range from coughing and vomiting to nausea, sleepiness and confusion. (Wikipedia). Just if someone needed an explanation for Robin's weird behavior at the end there… ;)


	22. A Horse Doesn't Care

A/N: thank you to **Baruga** for being my beta this time around! She helped me discover a spelling difference… Haley's Circus was also spelled Haly's Circus… still not sure which was first/most correct, but I'm going with Haley…

We've reached 500 reviews! Which means the drabble prize goes to **Arline-28**, if she wants it (just sent her the message as I write this). Congrats! I'm gonna stick my neck out REALLY far and say that there will be a 1,000 review prize too, if we ever reach that (and if I remember, since the story will probably be over for a long time by then)

to **robgray1**: you seem to ask me how to send a message? You need to be a member of this site (or tumblr or deviant Art) to send me a private message, but I can't really describe how you sign up… and, please, PLEASE try harder when writing, or even try google translate, because I'm having a real difficult time trying to understand you, sorry….

This week's title is a quote by Pat Parelli, whom, according to Wikipedia, is a horse trainer… ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 22: A Horse Doesn't Care How Much You Know, Until He Knows How Much You Care**

The kiss only lasted for a second.

"No, Robin," the man then said, pulling back. "You need to breathe… deep breaths… understand?"

The dizziness had returned full force now and the prince swallowed. "Feel… sick…"

"Hold it," he was ordered, and a moment later he had the washing bowl under his chin. Just in time. Throwing up made his throat hurt even worse and the boy whimpered.

"Today's just not your day, is it?" the man supporting him hummed.

"Tired…" the prince mumbled. He still wasn't sure what was going on. It was like being drunk, but worse. Hadn't he been out riding? Or… hunting? Or… had he been attacked? He was so confused, and it scared him. He curled up against the man, because _he_ didn't scare him for some reason; he felt familiar, and the world slowly went out of focus again.

When Robin woke up it was to the feeling of a wet cloth wiping his face and neck. He also heard the voice of the castle's physician.

"I think he will be fine, but in some cases patients deteriorate, or get a permanent cough… All we can do is make sure he rests and breathes fresh air. Hopefully he'll be right as rain in a day or two. The confusion is quite common and will pass soon. Some coughing is to be expected as the lungs heal. No strenuous activity for a week. Ah, I see he's coming around. Your Highness? How do you feel?"

"I'm… thirsty," the young man answered. "My throat is a bit sore."

"Here you go," the king said, handing him a glass of water. Robin took it but gave the man a glare, and Deathstroke chuckled.

"He's not disoriented anymore, that much is clear."

"Well, that is very good," the physician said as he smiled and packed up his things. "I'll be back to listen to your lungs again tomorrow, Your Highness."

Robin nodded, still sipping his water. As the man left him and the king alone in the room, the prince nearly choked as he saw Deathstroke's expression change, darkening. He swallowed and put up a brave front though.

"Are you going to beat me again?"

"_Beat_ you? You willfully destroyed my property, perhaps very valuable ideas and inventions for this kingdom so I, your new king, couldn't have them. That is_ treason_, Robin. The punishment for_ that_ is death."

The prince felt his heart speed up and it was even harder to breathe now. But he had known. The 'plan' he had had, actually it wasn't much of a plan at all, meant he would be caught. But he had done it anyway… out of anger and spite. At least he had done what he could to hurt the man… It wasn't much, but… He steeled himself.

"And- And when is the execution?"

"Never, I hope," Slade growled, sitting down on the side of the bed. "The official story right now is that I asked you to help sort through your father's documents. You decided to burn some of the worthless papers, which was also on my order, and things went wrong. Apparently things 'going wrong' when it comes to that room and your father's inventions is not unheard of."

"It… happens," Robin agreed. "But, why would you-?"

"Yes. Why _would_ I? You try to figure that one out, little prince, because I am starting to wonder myself!"

"You… we… kissed!" Robin suddenly realized.

"_You _kissed _me_. You were confused. And tasted of smoke. Don't you _dare_ get into a hissy fit about that."

Robin blinked. He had wanted to turn this into him being the victim here, but he now realized that that wouldn't work. Especially as he actually remembered pulling the man's head down. Although the king_ could_ have fought it!

"Did… anyone see us?" he asked instead. If he had done such a provocative thing in front of Alfred, or worse, a court member…

"Just one of my soldiers, and he couldn't care less."

Robin nodded, feeling relieved, and his thoughts returned to what he had done. "Did… everything burn?" he asked instead, more or less hoping that was the case.

"No, the fire never spread outside the cauldron. Also, from what we can deduce, what you burned were only rough sketches for new ideas. There was a cabinet in the far back holding everything that Bruce considered promising… Sorry to disappoint you."

"Could you leave now?" Robin muttered, turning his head away.

"Yes, in a moment, but we'll have a really big talk tomorrow. For now Alfred is probably ready to take over the scolding. Maybe I should give him a riding crop, hm?"

"Funny."

"I'm considering it. Now, there's one more thing-"

"I'm tired of listening to you! Go away!" Robin snapped but had a coughing fit which lasted for several minutes and left him weak and sweaty.

"Finished? Ready to listen?" the king asked dryly.

"I'm not… interested… in anything… you … have to… say…" the prince gasped.

"Your real name is Richard."

"W-what?" Robin stared up at the man.

"Richard Grayson. Your parents' names were John and Mary Grayson. I've met them. I couldn't tell you before, and I couldn't even remember their first names, but I sent word home as I knew I had a letter from them and I keep most of my correspondence. I wasn't sure I would be able to save you so I would ever be able to tell you this, but I hoped I would." He withdrew the folded paper from his pocket. "It is written by your mother only a week or so before they were killed, by my estimation. She mentions you."

"You… did _you_ send them? Was it _your_ fault they-?"

"No… and yes. Your father was working for me when he was seen in the library that time, but that was several years before you were born. They weren't working for me when they were killed, but they asked for refuge. They wanted to settle in Blüdhaven to raise you. They wanted to keep you safe."

"Would… would you have… let them?"

"Yes. They wouldn't even had had to ask. We had an agreement, of sorts. Here," the man said handing the prince the letter. "It's not much, maybe, but it's yours. I'll see you tomorrow."

Robin had a 'thank you' on the tip of his tongue, but didn't get it out before the door closed after the king.

Alfred came in instead, right after, and yes, he had a thing or two to say. Robin had pushed the piece of paper under his pillow, still not ready to tell the old man that he knew what had happened that night, almost eighteen years ago. In the end he feigned feeling a bit dizzy so the valet would leave him alone.

After gathering some courage he read the message. It was rather short, only one page. It didn't say much, but at the same time… it said everything. The sentence 'Our angel is finally here. We've named him Richard, and he's the most beautiful baby in the world' told him that he had not only been _wanted_, he had also been _loved_. His mother spoke about her worry regarding crossing Gotham, knowing they were wanted in the country, but she also said that they would only feel safe in Blüdhaven. Robin read the letter over and over. He had to stop once in a while, when it got too hard to breathe, but slowly his tears dried and he couldn't help but smile. His mother's way of writing… she was writing a_ king_, a king she didn't even really _know_ if Deathstroke was to be believed, but she was so amazingly _informal_… what would a king care that a couple of spies had a baby? And about their fears, worries. Not to mention his mother's longing to taste Blüdhaven goat cheese again, whatever that was. Maybe the style was a disguise on its own, in case the messenger was interrupted or corrupt. Still… he was sure he could hear his mother's voice, and he realized that what he was holding was the most precious gift anyone could ever have given him.

He stood up and put the letter with his mother's necklace, hidden among his stockings. The key was gone, of course, and he was only wearing a nightshirt now. He hoped Alfred had been the one to change him, but it seemed a petty thing to care about at a time like this. A _lot_ of things seemed petty now.

Robin rested for a while but eventually started to feel a bit hungry. After glancing at the clock he opened the door to his bedroom, but he was met by a finger pointing back inside.

"Back in bed this instant, Sir," his valet ordered him.

"Fine, I was just wondering if it's dinner soon? It's close to six…"

"Six in the _morning_. You slept for quite a while. I'll have breakfast for you shortly, now back to bed."

"Yes, _Sir_," Robin grinned and obeyed. He took a quick look out the window, and yes, that was morning light alright… It felt strange to have missed the whole afternoon and evening, especially as he was still feeling tired. It was only partly the smoke though, he thought. He was also emotionally drained, yet again… if this was what his life would be like from now on, he would never survive to his see his birthday...

* * *

Slade had expected at least a few people to resign today, as the week he had demanded that everyone stayed at their posts was up. No one had asked, however, according to Bobbins, and that was a good sign, the man assumed. What _wasn't _good was that the investigation about Robin's attacker was only moving very slowly and was mostly based on hearsay and witnesses consisting of the man's drinking buddies. At least there had been no more trouble… well… apart from what the prince had arranged on his own, but there was _something_ in the air, though…

"A word, My Lord?" Wintergreen asked from the other side of the partition.

Slade gestured for him to approach the throne. "If the prince has gathered troops in the courtyard I'm giving up," he muttered sullenly.

"No, as far as I know he is still resting. Actually I was just going to report that everything is calm so far. Messengers have started to return from the guests invited to the prince's birthday and they bring positive news; it seems everyone is coming or at least sending representatives… much fewer women will attend, though… I wonder why…" the older man added sarcastically.

"Because there's no unwed prince to try to sink their claws into anymore, I assume…" Slade smirked. "But good. I want the castle to appear as open and friendly as possible, while security still should be high. Maybe we can have a few guards out of uniform… as long as there's a way to distinguish them from the civilians…"

"I'll look into it. An armband or something similar, maybe?" the general said.

Slade nodded. "Sounds like an idea, as long as they aren't too easy to replicate. Any more news about the assassin?"

"No, My Lord, but we're working on all the leads, especially the one concerning the deep pockets," Wintergreen told him.

"Good. Well, I will go see the prince shortly, he should be rested enough by now."

"Your patience with that boy is frightening… but good luck, My Lord."

"Thank you. I will need it."

"That you will."

* * *

The prince was dozing when his bedroom door opened.

"Your Majesty?" Robin greeted the man. He was on his guard, but not openly hostile.

"I didn't know you were sleeping… how are you feeling? Still having trouble breathing?" the king asked.

"Not much, I just have a bit of a cough," the boy answered politely.

"Good." The man came up and sat on the bed again. The prince did _not_ like that, it was much too intimate, but he didn't say anything, he merely drew back a little. "It's time we had that talk… and this time I don't want it to end with shouting… but first; I assume you read the letter? Do you have any questions for me?"

"I did… thank you…" the last words sounded sincere, although it clearly took some effort to get them out. "You... said you've met my parents?"

"Yes. It was official business, though, we were never what you would call friends. I recall them being charming, however, and I've had them as part of my guest lists for dinner a few times."

"Can you… remember any specifics?"

"Well, your father was from Blüdhaven. The youngest son of a merchant family, so he left early to carve out his own path in life… somewhere along the way he met your mother who was from the far south, from Haley."

"That's a very small country, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's mostly known for having no real cities, the people there live in tents and wagons and move around as they please. The only reason they haven't been overtaken by now is mostly superstition… people claim they know magic and can cast curses on people who try to invade…"

"You think that's true?"

"No, I think they are very good at using different kinds of poison," Slade smiled. "Curse someone with a plague aloud and then simulate that plague by contaminating their food or water… and people will tend to stay away from you."

"Clever."

"They are… and so was your mother. They were both brave and very… outspoken."

"The tone in the letter…?" Robin asked carefully. "Was that… I mean… it wasn't very… official?"

"Your mother wouldn't _dream_ of being official… The Haley people doesn't necessarily respect authority other than their own unless that respect has been deserved, and even then they seem to think that a friendly way is better than the bureaucratic one."

"I got that expression, yes… Um… what… what did they look like?"

Slade's own memories were slightly hazy but the drunken guard had told him some, which he had withheld from the prince at the time. "Both had black hair, and light eyes, but you get most of your looks from your mother, especially the color of your eyes."

"Are you saying I look like a woman?" the prince muttered.

"No," Slade chuckled. "Your jaw is your father's, I'd say, and your eyebrows as well…Your father wasn't very tall, however, so you might have his height, although your mother was even shorter… and your mother's people have very little body-hair, which I rather think you have inherited as well… But I didn't mean to say that you look feminine, only that you have her beauty. Or do you prefer the term 'good looks'?"

"'Good looks' is slightly better, yes…" the prince said, and Slade could see a thin smile playing in the corners of his mouth. Finally. He suddenly remembered something else about the boy's mother.

"She liked to whistle."

"Whistle?" the prince made a face.

"Ah, I see that's not something that is _done _at the court of Gotham?" Slade smirked.

"Well… it's a bit… _uncouth_… Isn't it?"

"Depends on where you're from, apparently. Ah, I remember her doing bird impressions as well… she entertained my boys for a whole evening… I think she must have liked birds, but, then again, the people of Haley are often animal lovers… maybe that's where you got your love of horses from?"

"You think? That… I mean… that I can have something like that from them, when they didn't raise me?"

"Of course you can. You don't only get your _looks_ from your parents, after all. Your temperament might have been their fault too…"

"_Fault_?!"

"See?" Slade grinned. "About your name, though… would you like it officially changed? Your first name, that is, as you'll soon have my name anyway."

Robin looked a bit irritated about that, but apparently let it slide for now. "Well… my mother wore that pendant… and she liked birds… I don't think she would have minded, do you?"

Slade was very delighted that the boy had actually asked him for his opinion several times already. It was a huge change in attitude, even though the ice was still thin. "I don't think she would have minded at all," he said. "But let me know if you change your mind." As the prince nodded Slade took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts for the next part of the conversation. "And now… there are a few things I need to tell you… do you think you are ready to listen?"

Robin nodded hesitantly. He couldn't very well order the man to leave after he had been telling him so many things about his parents, after all.

"Good," the king said. "I know you understand my reasons for taking over Gotham; you've told me so yourself and you're far from stupid… what you don't seem to understand is that though my reasons for taking Gotham wasn't personal, my reasons for _saving_ you _were_."

"What do you mean?" Robin asked carefully.

"Killing you, well killing the king and the royal heir, I should say, was the plan. It is the way these things are done, after all. It would have made this takeover much easier."

"But it wouldn't have gotten you any good will, would it?" the prince sneered.

"Robin," Slade sighed. "I don't _care _about 'good will'. Any more resistance would just mean that more heads would be rolling. I have the War Laws on my side, my men and the men of the traitors as well. You being alive _only_ complicated things."

"Then why-"

"Because it became _personal_. Because I didn't_ want_ you dead… though I wasn't sure I would be able to save your life, and I won't lie to you, Robin; my country's wellbeing would have to have come before my own wishes. You know this. You were raised that way as well."

"I… yes," the prince grudgingly nodded. "So… you didn't plan on marrying me from the beginning?"

"Heavens, no…" Slade chuckled, and then coughed as he received a pointed look from the boy. "You were a brat, at least I thought you were. Spoiled, selfish and not very intelligent."

"You are a charmer…" Robin muttered.

"No, but _you _were… well… actually you grew on me."

"How?"

"I think it started as early as on that first day…" Slade mused. "You came back to your rooms after being thrown by Dax, remember? You were invigorated by the ride and smiled although you were covered in dust and were in some pain… and when I asked what happened, you claimed it was your fault the horse threw you. No doubt it _was,_ but some other young man, someone like Blackgate for example, would demand that horse's head on a platter… but you aren't like that."

"Of course I'm not!" the youngster snorted, but didn't seem to be that annoyed. "So it's not my 'good looks' then?"

"I'd say it's a combination. It's not just your personality, because that leaves something to be desired, to be truthful –let me finish− and it's not only the fact that you are a delectable and lustful young man-"

"I'm not-! I'm not… _lustful_!" Robin hissed.

"Well.. that might be a case of the pot calling the kettle black, but I didn't mean it as an insult, Robin. You are passionate. I like that."

"You _would_…" the boy muttered. "So… when did you decide to marry me, then?"

"The night before the takeover."

"What? _That_ close? It was _such_ a hard decision?" the prince snorted. "Couldn't _really _decide if you wanted me to live until the last minute?"

"No, I didn't find a way to_ save_ you until the last minute. Then I found out that the first king of the Wayne dynasty had married the youngest daughter of the previous king, thus binding her to his dynasty and she didn't have to die."

"I always felt sorry for her. That man killed both her parents and her older and younger brother, and she had to _marry _him…" Robin looked disgusted.

"I wish that tale had came up about two weeks ago…" Slade muttered. "I didn't know about that way around the law. Once I did, it was a fairly quick decision to marry you. Or_ try_ to, depending on if my decision would be accepted."

"_Fairly _quick?"

"Well… you're still a bit of a pain…" the man smirked. The corners of Robin's lips twisted as well. "So…" the king continued. "My reasons for keeping you alive are personal, not political, and here is what I intend to do: I _will _win you back. I know you don't trust me or like me right now, but I intend to change that… you, however, must let me _try_."

"Is that an order?"

"A royal one, yes," Slade's smile hadn't left his lips.

"I _don't _like you… and I sure as hell don't trust you… but fine. I see no way around this marriage and… I know what I said, but I don't really want a personal war with you… not anymore. You _did_ help me find out about my parents, after all… and you have saved my life several times by now… I guess I owe you some peace… but I don't want to be treated like a second grade citizen!"

"You haven't exactly helped _me_ trust you lately," Slade said dryly. "Running off, destroying property… you will have to prove yourself as well."

The prince looked down for a second and then nodded. "Agreed. I've been acting out, I admit that. It was childish. I'll… try to control myself from now on."

"Now, now, don't go and become _boring_ on me…" the king smirked. "But knowing that you are safe makes my life a bit easier, yes. And I'm not sure Alfred's heart can take another stunt right now."

"Very well, Deathstroke, you have a deal."

"Good. But I wish you would call me Slade again."

"Well,_ I_ wish _you _would still call _me_ 'Master'," the boy smirked.

"Well… it might be worth it," the man smirked back and then stood up. "I'll leave you to continue resting now. We'll have breakfast together tomorrow and then maybe you would like to join me for the day? If you are feeling better by then, that is…"

"Anything is better than these rooms, I would think," the prince shrugged.

"Good. I'll see you then. If you want to see me sooner, however, just have someone send for me. Neither you nor your company is unwanted anymore. Get used to that… Master."

* * *

"He allowed me to court him," Slade announced.

Wintergreen raised an eyebrow.

"The prince, who you are to marry in a few weeks whether he _wants _you to or not, and who belongs to you to do as you please with, _allowed_ you to court him?"

"When you put it like that I'm not sure why I feel like I achieved something…" the king muttered.

"Were you yelled at? Was something thrown at your head?"

"No."

"Well, then that's progress!"

"This situation is far too much fun for you… maybe I should send you home?" the king said.

"Please don't. You know my wife and I can only stand being around each other for six months or so at the time… We'll drive each other up the wall if we have to spend the summer together as_ well_ as the winter."

"How you two even managed to have children is beyond me…" Slade chuckled.

"All born in autumn, though, take note of that," the older man smirked. "And Holly and I love each other dearly… our personalities are just too strong to coexist all year around. Besides, she wouldn't want to give up her trade for anything."

"I think it's your last name she's having trouble forgiving…" Slade said. "Marrying you made her Holly Wintergreen… can't be easy."

* * *

Robin walked around his bedroom for a while after the man had left, too restless to follow the doctor's orders. He felt so… so… He sighed. He had no _idea_ how he felt. He was still angry at Deathstroke… or maybe not as angry, but… hurt. It _hurt_ to think about him. And still, the man's visit had made him feel… feel… Robin groaned out aloud this time and slammed a fist down on the dresser. Why didn't he know what he was feeling?! He had always known before, hadn't he? Before that man had come into his life and just… _messed everything up_… and brought so many things with him… So much new knowledge… and new experiences too… and it had only been three weeks.

Robin looked at a very ornate calendar hanging on the wall, and counted the days. He then chuckled. Twenty-two days. It had been twenty-two days since he had first seen the man being led into his throne room… and it felt like a lifetime… And the things the former slave had said today… some nice things and some really rude things… people didn't speak to him like that! Yes, he had wished for more honesty, but being told that he was a pain was a bit far, wasn't it? And selfish and spoiled… and passionate… and good looking…and _wanted_. Robin had never really felt wanted before and he didn't exactly know how to deal with that. Part of him liked it. A lot. Another part of him, however, felt a bit… trapped. Like the king wanted to_ control_ him, _own_ him.

He didn't know which part he could trust at the moment, but he had to give the man the benefit of a doubt, as he had promised. That didn't mean he wouldn't look out for his own interest or that he would fall for everything the man said, though, of course. Deathstroke had lied before. Although… Robin sank down on the bed again, tired from just walking around due to the damage to his lungs. How _much_ had the man lied? If he took away the things he had _had_ to lie about, like his real identity… was the man really infatuated with him, for example? Or was that just something a servant said to please his master? Robin sighed and collapsed against his pillows. He really wished his slave had come with instructions…

* * *

"Good morning, Robin."

"Good morning," the prince nodded as the king entered his sitting room. "Breakfast is served… why aren't we eating in _your _rooms, though?"

"I didn't want to tire you with the walk in case you are still feeling sick," the man explained.

"Oh… well, I'm much better now," the young man let him know. The atmosphere was a bit… awkward. Somehow it had been easier when he had been furious with the man. Now he almost felt … a bit shy.

"Good, then you'll come with me today?"

"Yes… what is on the agenda? And can we go riding later?"

"I would love to say yes, but I think that's a bit too strenuous for you just yet. But tomorrow, maybe, and if you want we can take out two of the Blüdhaven horses."

"Slayer? Could you ask Wintergreen if I may take him?" Robin asked and his eyes were shining so brightly that Slade was tempted to forgo his plans for today, and the boy's health too, and take him out right now. He reeled himself in, however.

"No need to ask him, Slayer is one of _my _horses, and yes, you may ride him, and I'll take a gelding of mine, Ore."

"He's yours? Wait… of _course _he's yours…" Robin snorted in amusement. "I always felt like you two were alike…"

"Yes, I remember that. Very flattering," the man smirked. "So… tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow. But… today?"

"Most of my business will probably take place in the throne room, but I would also like to go on an inspection round if possible. It's good for morale to let the guards and staff know that they are under scrutiny, after all."

"Be bored to death and then scare people. Got it," the prince said with a little smirk.

"That's the spirit," Slade sighed.

When they entered the throne room, however, Slade had a surprise for the prince.

"That's… that's _my_ throne…?" Robin said as he spotted it on the dais next to the larger and more ornate chair of the king.

"Yes, I had it moved here, it makes more sense for now. There will be an replacement in your throne room shortly, if you should need it further on. Right now, though, as we've discussed, I don't want you making official decisions. Not without me."

"I remember," the boy muttered, but seemed pleased as he took his seat. About an hour later, however, Slade heard a soft sigh of boredom. He then decided to change tactics and quietly began explaining how he came to the decisions he made with each case brought before him, and also discussed some points with the prince before proclaiming his verdict. Even though Robin first seemed annoyed and thought he was being lectured, he slowly got more involved and more interested. It was close to lunch when they both heard a commotion at the door.

"I don't understand why I can't see King Wayne, I am an ambassador! I-"

"Oh-oh…" Robin mumbled after recognizing the group of people. He glanced at Slade. "It looks like my future wife is here…"

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: dun-dun-DUN! *lol* nah, more like "this is effing awkward", but still…

Hope you're enjoying the story…


	23. A Canter is a Cure For Every Evil

A/N: thank you to **jaminyaoigirl51 **who was my beta this time… for the first time!

I've borrowed some names of friends from my facebook group again, for OC's in this story… I have to point out, _very clearly_, that I ONLY borrowed names, not personalities or looks… so don't get angry if "your" character is a bit… yeah… ;)

Also, the first chapter of my first original story (yes, it's slash too) is up here: original,adultfanfiction,net/story,php?no=600106335 and here: www,wattpad,com/story/6268076-now-see-here-m-m (just change commas for dots). Please give the story a chance and be kind… my first original and I'm very nervous about it… *hugs pillow*

The title today is a quote from Benjamin Disraeli, 1st Earl of Beaconsfield, (21 December 1804 – 19 April 1881) who was a British Prime Minister, parliamentarian, Conservative statesman and literary figure (Source: Wikipedia)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 23: A Canter is a Cure For Every Evil**

Robin was very uncomfortable, but tried not to show it. The king had taken the ambassador to the side to explain a few things to him in private after the family had been told what had happened in more general terms. The man was important to their relations with Steel and Robin was sure it was going to take some time to smooth things over, even though no promises had been made about him marrying one of the man's daughters. He was now facing all four of them_, and_ their mother. He had been asked, or told, to entertain them in the ball room, but he had rarely even _spoken_ to women before. Still, there were the usual courtesies, that might help him through.

"Lady DeMaggio," he said, giving a short bow. "May I offer you and your daughters some refreshments?" He waved the waiters over and the girls, after a nod from their mother, daintily helped themselves.

"Call me Katherine, Your Highness," the woman smiled. Robin liked that smile, it seemed… warm. "May I introduce my daughters? This is my eldest, Claudia. This is Eleanor, Allyssa and my youngest, Patricia."

Robin's eyes lingered on Eleanor, the girl who was supposed to like horses. Her father had said that she wasn't the prettiest of his daughters and he had been right. She was not ugly by any means, but her face was somewhat plainer, her eyes a little smaller, her hair didn't shine as brightly red as her sister's did. Still, her eyes glittered with curiosity and her mouth, which maybe was a bit big, again in comparison, smiled in such a contagious manner that looks didn't seem to matter much.

"Ladies, it's a pleasure to meet you," Robin bowed, and they all curtsied deeply in return. "I gather the news of the takeover didn't reach you?"

"I'm afraid not. My husband met us a week ago at the border and we've been traveling since then. Any messages sent our way must have missed us…"

Robin coughed and nodded. The fact was that he hadn't given the DiMaggio-family a single thought since the day the ambassador left and it hadn't occurred to him to send someone to intercept them. Apparently it had slipped Slade's mind as well. "It's a shame, but it is hard to get reliable news on the road…" he said airily.

"Mother, may I please ask him now?" Eleanor looked quite insistent about something.

Robin heard the sigh of a tried woman, and then the mother nodded. "Yes, but that was quite a rude way to ask me, Ellie," she said.

"I'm sorry, mother," the young woman mumbled but then immediately turned to Robin. "Your Highness, when we entered the courtyard I saw the most beautiful horse I've ever seen! It was huge and -"

"Was it a black stallion?" Robin grinned.

"Oh… no, it was a chestnut mare, My Lord. She shone like dark copper, but I have never seen a horse like her!"

"Ah, I don't think I've seen that particular horse either," the prince smiled, "but it sounds to me like she must be one of the Blüdhaven War Horses we are stabling."

"A Blüdhaven Warhorse! Mother, did you hear that? That is the only breed uncle Noel's book doesn't mention!"

"Uncle Noel… not as in Noel DiLuglio, surely? The great equestrian author?"

"Yes, he was my uncle. You have heard of him, My Lord?" the mother asked.

"Heard of him? I have _all _his books, I treasure them dearly!" Robin said, enthusiasm shining in his eyes.

"Well, you don't have his last one," Eleanor said proudly. "He describes every horse breed in the known world there, even from beyond the dessert! He was going to travel to the north to see the Warhorses when he died."

"I'm… sorry to hear about his death… I always hoped to be able to see him some day," Robin said.

"He was eighty-nine, he shouldn't have been trying to break wild horses at his age," Lady DiMaggio sighed. "Girls, I believe your sister and the prince would like to speak about horses some more, and as such matters is hardly of interest to any of you I suggest we go introduce ourselves." She nodded towards the rest of the room.

"Well, I should make the introd-" Robin began.

"Please, My Lord. I'm sure Eleanor has a thousand questions and if she can't have them answered she will bother me with them for the rest of our stay, so if you don't mind…?"

Once they had been left alone, things got a little quiet for a while, until the young woman decided to be the brave one.

"Um… yes, so that horse… it was truly beautiful."

"Oh, I'm sure… I couldn't believe it when I saw my first Warhorse," Robin grinned, like he was an expert.

"Do you think I might be allowed to go to the stables and see them, My Lord?"

"Yes, of course! We are going riding tomorrow, I'll ask the king if you can come too!" Robin said in a burst of eagerness to show these horses off to someone who was as impressed as he was.

"Truly?" the girl gasped, looking like she wanted to hug him. "I can't wait! Well… if the king allows it, of course… is… is it true that you are going to marry him?"

"It is," Robin sighed, his mood darkening. "I hope your father won't be too angry. After all he brought you here to-" Robin's mouth clicked shut when he realized what he was about to say, but Eleanor only gave him a grin.

"Yes, I know. Claudia has been imagining herself in a crown since his letter arrived."

"Oh? Well, I only invited your family because of… you," Robin admitted, blushing slightly as he did. Eleanor matched his blush and almost looked a bit frightened.

"B-because of… me?"

"Well, yes... I… Well, he told me how your sisters were so good at embroidery and… and music… and cooking… and I don't know anything about all that… and then he said that you loved horses and… I love horses too, and…" Robin felt more than a little bit foolish.

"Well… I guess that's a better reason to become friends than embroidery…" Eleanor grinned, and they both burst out laughing.

"Are you having a nice time?"

Robin turned his head and as his companion sank down in a deep curtsy, he nodded.

"Yes, Your Majesty, we are. If it's no trouble I've invited Lady Eleanor to go riding with us tomorrow."

"Oh?" Deathstroke's voice sounded a bit cold, but then he nodded. "Of course. We must entertain our guests, after all."

"And maybe you can arrange for a horse she can borrow? A Blüdhaven horse? She is a good rider," Robin said, although he had no proof of that.

"Certainly," the man nodded. "Now, however, it's time for that inspection round I mentioned this morning?"

Robin felt like he had been walking on thin ice for the last minute or so, although he couldn't quite understand why the man was so on edge. To placate him, however, he nodded and bowed to Eleanor. "I will have my valet send you word, My Lady," he said. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow."

"Me too, My Lord!" the woman said, her eyes shining.

"Well, she seemed… enthusiastic," the king drawled as they left the official rooms behind.

"Of course! She's going to get to ride a Blüdhaven Warhorse… I am 'enthusiastic' too!" Robin chuckled.

"If that's all there is…" the man growled.

"Well… of course there is… I mean… what else?"

"Her mother left you alone with her. Do you think ladies let their daughters spend time with a man without a chaperone for no reason?"

"We were not exactly alone, we were in the middle of the ballroom!" Robin objected. "And my guard was hovering nearby too, I _do_ notice them from time to time, you know… Besides, she knows I'm marrying you… do you think she wants her daughter in the middle of _that_?!"

Slade coughed as the prince's words gave him quite a different mental image than the boy had intended. He then shook his head.

"Well, maybe she thinks that just because the title of princess is lost, the title of official royal consort is not… and a bastard son to a prince still has royal blood."

"Lady Katherine is _not_ like that!" the boy hissed, his ears red.

"Even if she is, her plans won't work. I won't allow it, Robin," the man told him sternly.

"Well, good, because I don't want it!" the prince snapped back.

Slade coughed once more. He was slightly worried, though… the prince might not think he wanted anything to do with the girl more than share an interest, but who knew what_ other_ interests she might awaken inside him? Knowingly or unknowingly, women tended to turn young men's heads, after all, and their sense usually flew out the window at the same time… and the gods knew the prince had very little of that to begin with, at least occasionally.

"After our ride tomorrow, we should start working on the engagement contract," Slade said as they headed to the guard's quarters to start the inspection. "Have you written down any of your demands yet?"

"I'm waiting for a list from the treasury," Robin said.

"A list of what?"

"My personal assets."

"I probably have no interest in those… unless you own soldiers? Or an armory?"

"I… don't think I do, no."

"Then you may keep what's yours… think of what else you might want the contract to say though. I haven't had a chance to sit down with a magistrate either yet. I suspect a Gotham contract is different from a Blüdhaven one."

"And it will be a Gotham one? Wouldn't your laws apply here now as well?"

"Yes, in essence… but it will take time for my scribes and the magistrates here to compare the laws and make the changes that have to be made. As I said, I want most things to stay the same, but we can't have laws that oppose each other, of course."

"No… and punishments have to be considered as well… if a thief loses his right hand in Gotham and his left in Blüdhaven…"

"Let's just cut off both of them, then, to avoid confusion," Slade smirked.

The prince chuckled a little. "Do all savages have that kind of brutal sense of humor?" he then asked dryly.

"You insist I'm a savage?" the king asked, sounding amused.

"Well, you seem better suited behind an anvil… or as a soldier."

"Or in your bed?" the man proposed with a leer.

"Well… yes," the prince's surprising answer was. "Even the work of a pleasure slave seems to fit you better than the life of a noble."

"Well, like I told you; I don't hold _your_ kind of nobles in very high regard," the king snorted. "If all you see in life is the inside of a castle wall, you are ill prepared to rule."

"And you don't have a castle?" Robin asked sarcastically.

"Oh, Castle Lockhaven is quite a place, but in Blüdhaven we learn other trades than listening to songs and admiring ourselves in the mirror," the man let him know. "My older son has served as a smith's apprentice as well as a miner, my younger has learned skills from a healer and a tanner. It's important for a prince to learn a few crafts, that way they better know what to expect of their subjects. How long does it take to sew a jacket, Robin? Make a pot? Bake a loaf of bread?"

"I don't know exactly! Why is that important?"

"Because you want clothes to wear, plates to eat on and bread with your meals. You are demanding these things, and you should know what you are asking from your people, not merely the cost in gold."

"So you plan to have me apprentice in a potter's shed?" the prince muttered.

"No, but if you ever are curious, I'll encourage it," the man chuckled.

"I have always wanted to know how a farrier works…"

"Well, that's almost cheating, considering it has to do with horses… but I can let one of my blacksmiths give you a lesson or two… never hurts to know more about shoeing a horse."

"Do you know how to do that?" Robin asked.

"Since I was eleven."

"Braggart."

"It's only the truth. Tanning, though… I could never stand the smell for long."

"It smells?"

Slade gave the little noble a look. "Do you know what's commonly used in the tanning process?"

"No?"

"Piss and shit. And brains… and the hides are half rotten at the time."

"What?"

"Dog and pigeon dung are popular, and-"

"I… that's okay, I'm not sure I want to know how my boots were made…" Robin said, making a face.

"Let's just say you won't find a tannery in the middle of a city…"

"I don't blame you for not wanting to do that," Robin chuckled.

"Oh, I _did_ it. For a month. I had to learn, but that didn't mean I had to like it. I never went back after my time was up, though. There's nothing like trampling skins in a vat filled with dung water for four hours."

"Remind me again; are you making an argument _for_ you being royalty or_ against_?" the prince snickered.

"I think you managed to miss my point."

"No, I got it… I'm just having too much fun picturing you in that vat," Robin smirked.

The inspection went smoothly enough and as they headed back towards the prince's rooms, Wintergreen came to meet them.

"A letter from Grant, Your Majesty," he said, handing it over.

"Oh, and what does he say?" Slade asked.

"It has your private seal… I'm thinking it's about… well…" The general glanced in the prince's direction.

"I see. Robin, we both have some work to do regarding the contract, so I'll see you for our ride tomorrow morning?"

"I can't wait," the prince said honestly, and Slade's lips stretched in a smile before the boy added; "she will_ love_ the horses!"

* * *

Slade withdrew to his private study to read his son's letter. He had no idea what it would contain.

'Dear Father' it started. 'Congratulations on your victory! Not that we didn't expect it… We've been celebrating since Wintergreen's letter arrived late last night, and Joseph is still sleeping it off, I'm afraid.

About your other… 'conquest'… Do you remember when I was fourteen and was convinced I loved that trader's daughter? I came to you one night and talked to you about mother, wanting to find out how you knew you had loved her. Also, one of my friends had gotten a step mother at the time, and he didn't like her at all. I guess I was worried you would find a new mother for us as well; after all, she had been gone for nine years at that time… but when I dared to ask, you said that you would never love another woman like you loved our mother… I guess that wasn't a lie, was it, father? You fell in love with a man instead? Wintergreen said it was tactical, but I studied the laws with you; in what scenario would keeping the royal heir alive be beneficial? None of them. So you must have _wanted_ him alive. No need to hide the truth, father, but he must be beautiful… I've never known you to keep anyone in your bed for more than a night or two, and this one you intend to marry? He must be special beyond words…

In short, we are all very curious about this prince of yours. We _will_ put him to the test, though, you know we will, don't you? Does a Gotham noble really have what it takes to be married to a man of Blüdhaven? We shall see… I hope you can tell that I'm smiling as I write this. We won't torture him too much. We'll leave that up to you. Joseph will travel down for the wedding. I can't leave my post, of course, but I hope to see you before winter. Oh, and there is something else I can't leave… speaking about weddings…'

Slade finished the letter and grinned. He pulled on a bell string to summon Wintergreen, and as he waited for the man to appear, he scanned the first few lines again. Was Robin really that 'special'? Love was such a… strong word. He had loved his wife, he loved his sons and his friend… but Robin? Really? He inwardly rebelled against the thought for one reason, and one reason only: Adeline. He had vowed never to love another woman, that was true… he_ couldn't_ love the prince like he had loved her; her memory was simply too important. She had been his world. Wouldn't that dishonor her memory?

Grant seemed to think it was alright since Robin was a man, but was that enough of a loophole? Slade didn't deny he _wanted _the young man, and not only in the carnal ways… he wanted to share meals with him, conversations, rides, sword lessons… but he couldn't just give him his wife's place in his heart… not so quickly and effortlessly, at least… A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he called for his visitor to enter.

"Will," Slade began informally. "Tell me your honest opinion about my older son."

"You know I like him, Slade. He's a well rounded man, his feet steadily on the ground. He's brave, intelligent and honorable. He'll make a great king one day."

"I'm glad you think so, because he is going to marry your youngest daughter next week."

"That foul dog! The deceitful whore of a man! I will-" the man spluttered.

Slade burst out laughing. "Welcome to the family, Will."

"But Siw? She's only eighteen! If anyone I thought he would marry Carlyn... well, before she fell for that gem merchant…"

"They never had much in common, Will…" Slade said. "Besides, she's married with three children now, I think that ship has sailed. Siw is a plucky girl, she'll be good for him."

"I wish I had been there to give my permission."

"I think he would have asked your wife first anyway, and you would have been voted down," Slade smirked.

"That boy has always been a snake…" the man muttered, making said boy's father chuckle again. "So, any more news? Has my wife run off with a goat herder? Has Randolph and Willoughby killed each other over a board game yet?"

"Your sons are fine. Besides, didn't Randolph's wife forbid him from playing with his brother?"

"That she did. Clever woman. Never let a blacksmith and a soldier argue over gaming rules…"

"So… your last child to be married… no, wait, Willoughby isn't yet, is he?"

"He's married to his work. I don't think he puts down a sword long enough to notice women… or men, for that sake. But he's only twenty-one, he'll probably heel in time as well… but my little girl… she better not be pregnant!"

"It doesn't say… you might want to count the months, though, these things happen," Slade shrugged.

"I'm going to cut his balls off with a dull blade…"

"Can they please give me some grandchildren before you do?" Slade grinned. "I'm not greedy, just one or two to secure the succession…"

"That's right… my girl is going to be a _queen_…" the general gaped.

"She'll be a princess in a week, if that's enough for you for now. If not, I could just trip over my own sword on the way to bed," Slade said sadly.

"Oh, be quiet! You know what I mean!" the older man snorted.

"I do… and besides, I don't intend to die until after my wedding night at least. Speaking about that, could you summon a magistrate who specializes in marriage law? And join us for the discussion, we need to draw up a draft of the marriage contract."

"Shouldn't the prince be present?"

"Of course, for the finalization, but there has to be something to discuss by then. I scheduled a meeting with him for after the ride tomorrow. He'll be in a good mood then, I gather."

"Clever. Shall we gather in your rooms in one hour, then?" Wintergreen said.

Slade nodded and let his friend go find one of those old bearded men.

* * *

"He is to keep all non-military possessions… we'll have a list by tomorrow, but that's the gist of it," Slade told the magistrate, who sat ready with a pen and paper as well as so many books that he must have had help to carry them.

"Shall I refer to him as 'the bride', My Lord, or-?"

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea… use… 'The Prince'… or 'consort'. Apart from possession, what else do we have to deal with?"

"Well, there are the matters of succession…"

"My sons from my former marriage, as you know, are the heirs to the throne."

"If you should die, however, won't the prince…?"

"Will a Gotham Queen rule when her husband dies?" Slade asked.

"No, not usually, no. But I believe Blüdhaven-"

"Yes, we don't generally consider women lesser beings," the king snorted. "However, in this case, Robin is not to inherit the throne. These are dangerous times, and I don't want a rebellion growing around him. The prince is also younger than my sons, I don't want their rights to be threatened. He'll denounce all claims to the throne."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. About the matter of the… consummation and the rights of the husband in the bedroom?"

* * *

"Who are all these people?" Robin asked disappointedly as he and Deathstroke entered the courtyard the next morning, shortly after breakfast.

"A king and a prince can't take a lady out riding on their own, not if she's not married to any of them at least," Slade said. He was feeling a bit smug. He hoped this wouldn't ruin the young man's whole day, but if Robin thought he could go gallop away over the meadows with that girl all alone, he had thought wrong.

"There's a carriage too!" the prince groaned. "We can ride ahead of that, at least?"

"Well, I had to invite her family, of course, some of the local lords, and guards, naturally… and servants…"

"Why not bring the whole castle?" Robin muttered.

"It would have been different if it had just been you and me," Slade said, hoping that point hit home. "But as it is…"

"Yes, yes… there will be other days, I guess…" the young man sighed. "Oh, there's Slayer!" The prince hurried his steps to meet the stallion and Slade wondered if all this had been necessary at all, as the prince clearly just had eyes for the horse anyway.

"Your Highness! Is that your horse? He's amazing! Look, I get to borrow this one, isn't she beautiful? Her color! It's like she's made of gold!"

Slade studied the girl who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, his eye narrowing. She didn't strike him as a seductress, exactly, but he did _not _appreciate the smile on Robin's face as they started talking.

"You look like you intend to kill someone, I thought this was supposed to be a nice outing?" Wintergreen asked, having come up to greet him while the king had been busy glaring.

"I'm just wondering what that girl wants…" Slade growled.

"A Blüdhaven Warhorse, I'd wager. Look at her, My Lord, she has the womanly wiles of old Alf the Blacksmith. She's not trying anything."

"Her mother might."

"Yes, yes, of course, but you can't exactly blame her now, can you? You set the rules in the contract last night and if the prince agrees and signs-"

"He _will _agree and sign!"

"Yes, well, _when_ he does, then… then it's all settled, isn't it?"

"Maybe we should have that meeting before we ride out."

"Um, no… no, I think you want the prince tired and happy for that… and as you can't really take him to bed to do that yet, this kind of ride will have to do."

"Fine…" Slade sighed and led his friend to their own horses. "I just wish he would be mine already."

They rode through the city and people stopped and watched as they passed. They didn't know their new king's face yet, but they recognized a crown when they saw one, even a simple one. Besides, the man's features had been described by those who had seen him those didn't fit many people. The atmosphere was a little bit tense. Slade had doubled the city guard to make sure that everything was calm, at least on the surface, but the people were still, naturally, wary.

"Prince Robin!" Someone called out, and the young man smiled and nodded in the general direction of the shout, causing more people to call out and wave. As they passed a small market, Slade decided to make a statement.

"You there, merchant, I would like an apple," he said to a couple of farmers who, by the looks of it, had brought the last of their winter apples into the city to sell.

"Of course Milord, they are yours!" the man said, rushing up with the basket, looking like he was scared for his life.

"Only one, and I will pay of course," Slade smiled and withdrew a coin. It was more than enough for one apple, but not overly so. The man didn't think that it sent a good message if it seemed that their king didn't know what an apple was worth, after all.

"T-thank you, Milord, this is most kind!"

"It has nothing to do with kindness," Slade said, making sure his voice carried. "What kind of king eats without making sure his subjects do the same? Why would I steal from my own people?"

"Deathstroke only steal kingdoms," Robin spoke up with a chuckle and got a few laughs. "I would like to buy a carrot for my horse, please? He's been sniffing in that sack's direction and I won't be able to hold him back much longer."

Slade noticed that the prince also paid an acceptable price, and wondered if the boy was just following his lead or if he understood the reason behind it. It didn't matter at the moment, though, but the king still approved. The young man let a wide eyed little boy feed the carrot to the enormous horse, which picked it up ever so gently with his lips.

"We should be on our way," Slade said. "I'm afraid we're almost blocking the street here, that can't be good for business. Thank you again for this fine apple, Merchant. My Lady," the man nodded to the merchant's wife.

"Bless you, Your Majesty!" the man bowed, and, as they rode away, more people bowed, waved or shouted greetings.

"Well done, Sir," Wintergreen said, riding up on the king's side.

"I was just going to say the same thing to Robin," Slade said and nodded his appreciation to the boy on his other side.

"I don't want my people to fear you," the prince shrugged. "This has been a peaceful nation for a long time, and as far as I'm aware the citizens have no real grievances… but change is… scary."

"I know. We must do our best to appease them, as there's still some time before they will see the extra coin the trading will bring… I'm sure promises of riches will seem empty right now."

"Probably," Robin snorted. "I'm not sure I believe it myself yet."

* * *

Even though the pace was slower than he would have liked, and there were too many people around, Robin found himself enjoying the day. They would have lunch outside and return to the castle shortly after. Everything was planned, something else he didn't particularly care for. If it had been just him and the king they would be racing through the woods by now, probably, letting their horses stretch their legs. Still, it was exhilarating to be up so high and feel that kind of power between his knees.

"These have to be the _gods_ of horses, Your Majesty," he heard Eleanor say to the king.

"I've ridden no finer steeds, but I _am _partial, after all…" Deathstroke answered her. Robin frowned. The man sounded a bit… cold. Not rude in any way, but the prince heard that there was something… wrong. Maybe the man didn't enjoy this having turned into a official thing either?

"Your Majesty, as we are about to have lunch soon, maybe we could take a short ride alone?" Robin suggested, to see if that might cheer the man up. It seemed it did. "I feel Slayer needs a good run."

"Yes, in fact… why don't we go ahead to the picnic site right now?" the man suggested.

"May I come?" Eleanor cut in.

"It wouldn't be proper, My Lady," the king answered.

"But… won't you need to bring a chaperone anyway?" the young woman asked.

Robin met the king's eye and couldn't help but laugh. "We're men, I don't see any reason. We'll talk during lunch? It's only a mile or so left."

"Of course, Your Highness," the young woman nodded. "I'll ask my father if he would ride with me… merely walking a horse like this… it's a shame."

"I know what you mean," Robin grinned and then, as the king set off, he followed.

* * *

"That… was amazing!" Robin all but shouted as they reached the area where servants, who had been sent out earlier, had set up marquees with tables and chairs inside, sheltered from the wind, so the nobles could eat in a more proper surrounding. It was something that the prince a few months ago would have expected, but now more or less felt was unnecessary… what was so wrong with sitting on the ground, anyway? Still, they _did _have ladies with them…

"They can run like this for hours," the king told him. "You'll see, one of these days. With only you on his back I doubt Slayer will have to stop until he reaches Blüdhaven."

"Did you just insult my stature, Your Majesty?" Robin deadpanned.

"You _would_ take it that way, wouldn't you?" the man snorted, and the young man shrugged with a smirk on his face.

"How about for riding a bit longer, just until the others catch up?" the prince then asked.

"Your wish is my command, Your Highness," the man smirked.

"You would do well to remember that," Robin sniffed and then leaned over Slayer's neck. "Let's show that barbarian of an owner of yours what you can do, shall we, boy?" he suggested, and judging by the way the horse set off, he agreed.

* * *

"This wine is superb, My Lord King."

"Thank you, Lady Claudia, I can't take credit for it, however, it comes from the castle cellars."

"You have great taste, though, this goes perfectly with the meal. What wines do you prefer in Blüdhaven, Your Majesty?"

"I will send your complements to the staff who planned this meal, then, and we prefer ale in the mountains," the king answered.

"I see. Your home land is fascinating, Sir… and you! So brave, taking this country with your own hands. I heard the duel for the throne was thrilling!"

Robin, who had Lady Eleanor to the table, had now taken notice of the king's conversation with her older sister. She was really keen on prattling on, wasn't she?

"Claudia! What a horrid thing to say! Think of Prince Robin!" Eleanor said and placed a hand on the young man's arm. "The late king was his _father_!" she added in a hiss.

"Oh… I… I apologize, Your Highness, but King Deathstroke's accomplishment will be remembered for generations! I've already heard a song about it in the hall last night!"

"And what were they singing?" the man smirked.

"Of your bravery and your skill… and your-" The young woman stopped herself, and blushed.

"I heard that song as well. I think the word you are looking for is 'physique', sister," Eleanor snickered.

"Ellie! If mother heard you-!"

"But she is at the other side of the table, and with the musicians between us… besides, I'm only telling the truth! The bard went on about your manly beauty, My Lord, and how you saved the Prince, sweeping him up into your arms."

"He did no such thing," Robin snorted.

"Not _that_ day, at least," the man smirked.

"Well, then it's not true that Prince Robin turns into a woman at night then either, I suppose?" Eleanor grinned.

"What?!" the young man spluttered, while the king laughed. "Was _that_ in the song too?"

"No, that was later… the bard played a few… raunchier tunes then. Unfortunately we weren't allowed to stay, mother dragged us out."

"I think I shall have words with that bard. Who was it? He can't have been from here?" Robin growled.

"No, his accent was southern, My Lord, but please, don't be angry with him! We all know it was only in jest!"

"Well, we don't want our wedding to be seen as a joke," the king said sternly, "so I think the Prince is right. A friendly conversation wouldn't hurt."

"You know best, Your Majesty," Claudia told him, and patted his hand. "I wish Steel had a strong and fair king like you."

"We have an emperor, silly," Eleanor snorted.

"Well, His Majesty would make a wonderful emperor as well!" her sister snapped.

Robin did_ not_ like her tone. Deathstroke had been afraid that Eleanor had an ulterior motive? Ha! Her sister was practically _climbing_ into the king's lap! Not that he _cared_, she could have him, but what would others say? If they already laughed about their wedding… Robin didn't want to be laughed at! He knew he had to expect some jibes and jokes, but if the man took a lover before they were even married? No. Besides, if their union got undermined enough there might be an uprising, or the law might fall through somehow, which wasn't good for him. Not good at all. The man had already made it very clear to him that securing this country was at the top of his priority, after all, and if the wedding was threatened… he gave the girl a glare, but she was too busy gazing at the king to notice.

"His Majesty takes our union _very_ seriously," Robin said instead. "We both do. We won't let _anything_ belittle it."

"Very true, Robin," Slade said and gave him a look that made the prince's lower stomach tingle a little. It was very much that way the man used to look just before they- The prince coughed and took a deep sip of wine as the king continued. "My younger son Joseph will come to our wedding, did I tell you that?"

"He will? You _must _introduce us!" Claudia said.

"Of course, My Lady. He will be the head of Gotham one day if my wishes come true," the man told her.

"I just know he's very handsome!" the girl exclaimed, and all of them, her sister included, rolled their eyes.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: thank you to **addicted2sasunaru** who suggested that Slade should have admirers… of course he should! ;)

Also DiMaggio means "of May"/born in May in Italian so I thought it would be funny to use "DiLuglio" as another family name from Steel as Luglio means "July"… though I'm sure it sounds completely ridiculous in Italian… maybe even WRONG… google translate, people. Still, it was just a little thing to entertain myself…


	24. Feeling Down? Saddle Up!

A/N: thank you to **luv animemanga forever** for being my beta this time! Due to a little misunderstanding I probably didn't make all the changes she wanted me to make, though… ;)

The origins of this week's title is unknown… but it's funny! ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 24: Feeling Down? Saddle Up!**

"Did you enjoy the ride today?" Slade asked Robin as they dismounted back at the castle.

"I did, it was nice," the prince nodded.

"Good. Well, after we clean up lets meet in my chambers to go over the contract, shall we?"

"Right… had almost forgotten about that. Fine."

"One hour?" the man suggested.

"One and a half. I need a bath," Robin said.

"Very well. One and a half. Don't fall asleep in the tub, though," the man chuckled, getting an annoyed snort in reply.

A little over one and a half hours later, Robin was more than a_ bit_ annoyed, however.

"What do you mean 'full matrimonial rights'?"

"Isn't that standard here, between a wedded couple?" Slade said innocently.

"Well, we're not exactly a 'standard' couple!" Robin snorted. "I don't see why we need to have any contact at _all_!"

"Maybe we should move on for now?" the, very tried, magistrate urged. "When it comes to lovers and bed-slaves-"

"You want lovers and bed-slaves?" Robin hissed at the king, "No! I won't agree to that!"

"Good, because that was the suggestion, but it goes both ways. No lovers. We can't afford to make this marriage look _anything _but genuine and solid."

Robin, who had been thinking the same thing just a few hours ago, nodded reluctantly.

"Which is, of course," Slade continued, "why it's even more important that you share my bed."

"But-"

"Did you think we could forgo the consummation too? That is essential to the marriage laws in both our countries, after all."

"But we're _men_!"

"And the reason you are alive right now is that we convinced the council that that _doesn't matter_," the king pointed out. He looked at Wintergreen and the magistrate. "Leave us."

Robin swallowed. He did _not_ want the other men to go right now, but they obeyed the king, of course. Deathstroke stood up and walked around the table towards him. The prince stood as well, feeling threatened. The man stopped in front of him, a bit too close for comfort. He placed a hand on the prince's shoulder. Robin tried to shrug it off but the grip only tightened until he gave up and stood still, letting it happen.

"Are you going to threaten me into agreeing with this?" the young man asked. "Or hit me again?"

"Neither," the king growled, "I'm going to _remind_ you." With that his grip shifted to the boy's neck instead, and he smashed their lips together.

Robin gasped in surprise; he hadn't expected the man to kiss him. He was pushed back against the table while the king's free hand went under his ass, lifting him up on the surface completely and then pushed his way between his legs. The prince tried to shove the man away, but he might as well have been a mountain. Also, Robin felt his body heat up with every kiss, nibble and caress, and groaned as their crotches rubbed together. He began to realize what the king wanted him to remember.

"Sl- Deathstroke," he gasped as the man kissed his neck, letting him breathe for a while. "Please don't hurt-"

"Never. I'll take what is mine, Robin, but I'll have you begging for more," the man rumbled in his ear. And then he suddenly pulled back and stepped away from the table. "But not today. Today you are going to agree with my conditions, and on our wedding night… you might think I have pleasured you before, My Prince, but that was just foreplay. When I make you mine… you'll know what _true_ pleasure is."

Robin was breathing heavily as he stared at the man. Deathstroke's eye then trailed over him and the man smirked.

"You might want to make yourself presentable or I won't be able to resist the urge to wed you right now, eighteen or not."

The prince suddenly realized that he was on top of the table, propped up on his elbows, his legs dangling off the side, knees spread and his shirt was pushed up enough to reveal his stomach. He quickly got on his feet, blushing angrily.

"What makes you think that will make me agree to be your bed slave?" the boy snorted. "If I sign that contract, I won't be allowed to refuse!"

"If you _don't, _you'll never feel another intimate touch in your life… apart from the consummation, and if you don't enter our wedding bed willingly… not even I can make it good for you."

"See? You threaten me!" the prince spat, getting his clothes in order.

"No, Robin." The man was suddenly in front of him again, his fingers caressing his cheek. "Your own body will stop the pleasure, not me. I'll do my best, trust me… but if you are still fighting me by then, your muscles will tense up… you know yourself how good it feels when you are relaxed and happy… remember?"

The boy didn't answer, but his blush deepened somewhat.

"We are both men," Slade pushed on. "We need release. If you are… reasonably accommodating, I won't invoke the contract, meaning that you can decline sometimes. But saying no because you don't feel well or is too tired is one thing. Refusing your husband completely… that will _not_ be accepted."

"Was that not a threat either?" the prince snorted. To his surprise the king burst out in a short laugh.

"Men tend to bow to my will at this point in a discussion, not ask me if I threaten them," he chuckled.

"Well, you do! You say you don't, but what you are basically saying is that I either agree or I'll be raped! Or die!"

"Yes," Slade finally agreed, after looking the prince in the eye for a while. "But I_ want_ you to want me, Robin and _I_ also want _you_. I _demand_ to have you, and I _will_. It will be my right. I want you to be mewling for more just like you used to… I long to hear that sound again-"

"I do not mewl!"

"Moan? Cry? Beg? Plead? Gasp? No matter, I want to hear you do that again. I don't want to feel you tense in pain under me, I don't want to see any tears… but if that is what _you_ want out of this marriage then go ahead; try to fight this, me, even you own _body_, which only minutes ago was aching for more of me. You can't deny that, Robin. I won't let you."

The prince took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. This had all been unexpected, to say the least. He had come here thinking he would find a contract stating that this was a marriage in name only… not this. He could feel that trying to argue with Deathstroke about it was useless, however. The man would not back down an inch.

"So… you intend for us to share a bed every night?"

"When in the same city, yes. Sharing a bed is not the same thing as lying with each other, though."

Robin thought about it. _When in the same city_… and he would have a farm… Slade's throne was in Blüdhaven… As he had thought before, they might not have to see each other much.

"And… I'll have the right to say no if… I'm tired?"

"Not the _right_, no, but I'll listen to you… and I'm _very_ good at knowing when someone is lying to me. And I can tell that you have a slight headache that the moment… right here." The man touched Robin's temple at the exact place it was throbbing, and the prince pulled away slightly, rubbing his head.

"Well… that one's _your_ fault."

"I suspect it _is_," Slade chuckled. "Shall I call in the others?"

The prince sank down in his chair and nodded with a sigh.

* * *

"He wants to lie with me, Alfred!" Robin exclaimed when he was alone with his valet that night.

"Your Highness?" the old man almost spluttered, before collecting himself. "I assume you are talking about the wedding contract?" he continued, as he brushed the young man's hair.

"Of course I am! He wants me to sleep with him. In his bed. Every night!"

"And you didn't expect that he would?"

"Of course not!"

"Didn't he seem to enjoy your… time together before?"

"Well… yes, of course, but… Alfred, I don't want to do this!"

The old man sighed as he gathered the black locks up in a simple bow. "My Lord, I've known you since you were a mere infant, may I speak freely?"

"Yes?"

"It might not be something you want to hear…?" the valet warned him.

"Not much _is_, nowadays, I'm getting used to it," Robin said dryly. "Speak."

"Slade Wilson is a king. Kings generally don't strike bargains without expecting anything in return. He let you live and you might have to give him something back. A… trade, of sorts."

"So I have to give him my body for my life?" the prince snorted like he didn't think it was a good deal.

"My Prince, if I thought it would help keep you alive, I'd give him _my_ body too… I'm afraid it would only make things worse though."

Robin stared at the old man in the mirror. When he saw that Alfred's eyes were glittering with mirth he burst out laughing.

"Thank you… that's… very kind," he chuckled.

"Is the contract finalized, then?" the valet asked.

"I think so. The magistrate took all the notes and is going to draw up the official one… he said he would have it ready in a few days."

"Well, there's always time to make changes until it is signed," the old man comforted him.

"I know…" Robin took a deep breath. "Alfred… there's something I have to tell you… something I found out… It's about my parents."

The valet didn't leave the prince's rooms until very late that night, and they both had streaks of dried tears on their cheeks when he did. Robin's heart felt lighter, though, and he hoped his servant's did as well. He hadn't asked the man to fill in any details as that would make him betray the former's king's trust, but he had thanked him for saving his life, telling him that if anyone had been like a father to him… it was Alfred.

He fell asleep surprisingly quickly after that. It had been a long day, and his muscles ached nicely after the ride, making his body feel heavy…

… and hot… a hand were sliding up his chest, calloused fingertips circling a nipple slowly. The nails then scraped over it, ever so gently, just to send a spike of lust deep into his abdomen. Lips closed around the nub while a hand caressed and then stroked his aching length.

"You're mine, Robin," the man whispered in his ear.

The prince's eyes flew open, but it had just been a dream. He was alone, but his hands were not idle; one pinching a nipple and the other one around his member, just like in his dream. His nightshirt was hiked up around his chest, leaving the rest of him bare.

Like in his dream he was so very close to coming. So close there was no way of stopping it. He cried out as he climaxed, his back arching slightly, his hips bucking. When it was over, shame washed over him. Damn the man for reminding him of these feelings! And damn him for not being here to help him clean up! Even though it was pulled up globs of seed had landed on his nightshirt. Robin pulled the stained clothing over his head and wiped himself on it before dropping it over the side of the bed. He'd deal with it in the morning.

* * *

"Someone is cute when he's sleeping…" The amused voice roused Robin, who then pulled the covers up and stared at the king.

"What are you doing here?!"

"I woke up early so I thought you might want to go practice before breakfast?" the man suggested, leaning against a bedpost.

"You can't be in my bedroom!"

"Excuse me? I've been in your here quite often…?" The king looked nonplussed.

"Yes, but that was before I- Before I knew that you… wanted to… it's not PROPER!"

"Oh dear gods, the Gotham 'morals' again…" Slade snorted. "Why are you naked by the way?" he added and lifted the nightshirt from the floor.

"I… I spilled something."

"I bet you did," the man smirked. "Well? Did you want to practice?"

Robin_ did_, actually, because that was almost as fun as riding. There was a problem, though.

"I need to get dressed…"

"I could help you?"

"No! I'll do it myself!" Robin hurriedly assured him. "You have to wait outside."

The king shook his head with a chuckle. "I'll never understand this code of conduct of yours…" he said. "I've dressed you many times. I've bathed you… hell, I've _licked_ you all over… and suddenly you're shy?"

"No, but… it's different now," Robin said firmly, because that's how he felt, even though he couldn't really explain why.

* * *

"I told Alfred last night… about my parents.." Robin said softly as they strode towards the training hall. As he was walking he was smacking his riding crop against his leg lightly. He wasn't sure why he had brought it, but he had gotten used to having it with him, and after yesterday it was, somehow, a safety. There was no telling what the lecherous man might try to do. Not that a crop would stop him, Robin suspected, but it reminded him of a time when he had… control.

"And how did it go?"

"It went well, I think. I love him… and I think he… likes me."

"He loves you too, Robin. Like a son or grandson. I think he'll always be a servant first, however."

"Yes, it was like he was born that way…" the prince chuckled, and then looked up as they entered the courtyard and heard the sound of weapons crashing together. Immediately, his heart was in his throat and he expected to be attacked again, but then he realized that it was just two Blüdhaven guards, practicing.

The men didn't see them, as they were very focused on their fight, which looked a good deal more violent than the sparring Robin was used to. One of them got a clean strike in and grinned.

"Six-four, that's my win Stonesword!"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll get your prize… I have it back by my cot."

"That's fine, we'll get it late. Here are the four coppers for you," the winner said and handed a few coins over.

"Um… didn't that man just win? Why did _he_ have to pay? And I thought Blüdhaven men didn't fight with points?"

"It's just a game. You decide the prizes beforehand… it can be anything like money and possessions, or favors like hours of guard duty. Wintergreen has forbidden gambling with that, though, as we need people in the places they are supposed to be at all times. The game goes up to ten and both the winner and loser have to pay what they owe each other at the end."

"Huh," Robin said as they entered the training hall.

"Do you want to play?" the man asked.

"I'm not sure it would be fair," Robin muttered.

"It would be on your conditions," the man offered.

"Like… you can only fight with a dagger, and I get a sword?"

"Yes, why not?"

"And I can decide the prizes?"

"You can decide _yours._ I get to decide what_ I_ want… those are the rules."

"What... would you want?" the prince asked carefully. He hadn't made up his mind yet, but he was tempted.

"How about a kiss for each point?"

"No."

"You can't come up with anything to match that, that would make it worth it?" the man smirked, the challenge clear in his voice.

Robin thought it over quickly and then smirked in return. "I get to strike you. With this," he said, raising the riding crop.

"That's cruel, Robin…" Slade said, but after a moment he smirked. "Not the face."

"Of course not."

"Or my crotch."

"I would never hit another man _there_!" The prince looked positively scandalized.

"Then it's a deal. Let's begin," the king said, picking out a short wooden dagger for himself and a training sword for the boy. "No padding. But be _careful_, Robin, I don't want to lose my only eye."

The prince felt rather happy that Deathstroke thought he even had a chance to gouge his eye out, and deftly caught the sword the man threw to him. Deathstroke didn't look less imposing just because he was only holding a dagger, though. The prince swallowed.

"Begin," the order came.

Robin danced out of the way of the first attacks, not quite willing to get anywhere close to the man. Slade snorted in irritation and changed tactics. He stood still, letting the boy come to him. He had no intention of losing, he had no intention of giving the prince a _single point_, but he needed the young man close to strike.

Robin's eyes narrowed. He was literally on the balls of his feet, tense, ready to leap away, but the man seemed to have turned into a statue. Closer and closer Robin moved, trying not to stare at the hand holding the dagger and looking the man into his eye instead. But the king never gave any indication of moving until the dagger was pressed against the boy's abdomen.

"One to me." The voice was smug, self assured, and Robin seethed. Drawing on everything he had ever learned, from both his trainers, he moved away briefly only to attack.

"I believe that point is mine," the prince smirked a second later, withdrawing the wooden blade from the man's neck.

"Very good."

Robin smirked. The praise had come from between clenched teeth. The king was _not _happy… and that was exactly what the young man wanted, after all.

Slade won, in the end, but not before Robin had managed to score two more points. Seven-three.

"I think I'll take one of those kisses now," the man grinned.

"What? No! We can't do any of that sort in public, what if someone should _see_ us!"

"Yes, oh dear, the _scandal_!" Slade jokingly gasped.

"Exactly!" Robin snapped, not understanding the sarcasm.

"Very well, I'll escort you back to your chambers, then…" the man sighed. One day he swore he and his men would walk around naked a whole day here, just to see how many noblemen would die of shock.

Alfred was ready with a bath when they returned, the old man knew what to expect by now and Robin had left him a note as he had learned to do.

"Could you leave us for a moment, Alfred, there is something the prince and I need to discuss. You can wait outside," Slade said. As the old man left, the king turned to Robin with something of a leer on his face.

"So… the kiss…"

"Only one? But you won seven?" the prince, dutifully, pointed out.

"Yes, but I'd like to savor my wins. One now, the rest later."

"I'd rather just have them over with."

"Well, _you_ don't have a say," the man smirked and pulled him close.

"Does it… have to be on the lips?" Robin asked, trying to get out of it.

"You sound like you don't want to honor our bet… But no. I guess I could kiss your cock…" Slade smirked and let a hand slide down the prince's front. It was slapped away, however.

"On the lips is fine!" the young man confirmed.

The man took his time. He knew he wouldn't get many opportunities like this, after all, unless he simply _took_ them. He didn't want the boy to be scared of him, though, or see him as a personal threat. A little bit of respect didn't hurt, however. When their lips parted he was delighted to see the flushed look on the prince's face, and the slightly glazed over look in his eyes.

"That was _one_," he purred and then stepped away. "I'll see you later today, Your Highness. Lunch, maybe?" he added as he headed to the door.

"Stop." The young man's voice sounded like a whip, and the king turned around, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"_My_ prize…" the smirk on the boys face was positively evil. "I want it paid now. In _full_," he said, unhooking his riding crop from his belt.

Robin saw how Deathstroke's jaw tightened.

"You _are_ going to 'honor our bet', aren't you?" the prince smirked.

"Of course," the man answered in a clipped tone.

"Good… lower your breeches."

The king gave him a dark look telling Robin that he knew _exactly_ why he was doing this and what he thought of this kind of revenge, but the man obeyed. The prince couldn't help but snicker as he walked around his former slave, inspecting those muscular globes. He even ran a hand over them, patting the man's behind almost fondly.

"Taking our time, are we?" Deathstroke growled.

"Oh, yes, I'm enjoying this _immensely_…" Robin grinned back, letting the tip of the riding crop caress the outside of the man's leg, sliding it up from ankle to hip, ever so slowly. "I have three strikes… I have to make them count… although I plan to train a lot harder from now on, just to make sure I win more."

"I'm glad I can offer you an incentive," the man snorted. "Are we going to be here all day?"

"Hush," the prince chuckled. "Don't be so eager. But fine, poor Alfred is waiting out in the hall, after all… this is for my father," he added and let the crop fly. Slade hissed as the thin rod cut into his flesh. The prince had all the space he needed to put a lot of power into the strikes and he seemed to give it all he got. "This is for my country," he added and this time Slade grunted at the flash of pain. "And this is for _me_." The third strike someone managed to be the hardest by far and only learning to endure pain the hard way stopped the man from crying out. "You may pull up your breeches," the boy told him lightly a moment later.

"I hope that was satisfying?" the man asked dryly.

"It was. But remember, Deathstroke, you _agreed_ to this game, after all. And you won. Don't be a sore winner… and have fun sitting on your throne all day."

"You are quite a little devil, My Prince," the man smirked. "I like that."

Robin smirked back. He_ had_ enjoyed it. Not because he liked hurting people, not even Deathstroke, but it wasn't about causing pain. It was, and always would be, about power and control. He had loved leading the enormous slave through the castle on a leash, just as much as he loved straddling the man's huge horse, being the one in charge. The thought of doing it to someone else but the king didn't appeal to him, though. He could easily get another slave, or twenty, but why? The _king_ was the powerful one, he was the only one _worth_ controlling… though the prince was well aware that this might have been the last time he had a chance to do so.

* * *

"Alfred, would you arrange for guards for me?" Robin asked as he was finishing up his breakfast. "I wish to call on Lord Riley and maybe take a bit of a stroll around the castle. I think I need to be seen more… talk to a few people."

"Yes, My Lord," the man bowed and soon the prince was walking calmly through the corridors of the castle, flanked by two Blüdhaven soldiers. The prince hated to admit it, but after the attack he had felt… uneasy… in the presence of strangers. The soldiers and servants didn't count, but as soon as a nobleman looked at him for a bit too long, his heart sped up. Was the man an enemy? Did he want him dead? He had always preferred solitude, he guessed he had been formed that way, but now was not the time to show any weakness or fear. The ones that meant him harm were still out there, after all, and they wouldn't get the pleasure of seeing him cower.

Not long after he was greeted by the young fair-haired noble, who was giving him an open, happy smile.

"Your Highness! I'm so glad to see you! I'm sorry I haven't been to visit you, especially after what happened…"

"I'm sorry I haven't been to see _you _either," Robin replied, taking the young man's hand. "How are you feeling? I heard you were still sore?"

"My Lord, your father was killed, your rightful place as ruler taken away from you, you almost got assassinated, I heard you had an accident while out riding and then, on the same day, you were almost choked to death by smoke… and you ask about my sore ribs?" Riley shook his head and chuckled. "I'm fine."

"So am I, believe it or not," the prince snorted.

"Even though you have to marry the king?"

"Even so."

"You _did_ like him, I know, but-"

"When I thought he was a slave, yes…" Robin sighed. "Are you well enough to take a walk? I'm tired of just sitting around… besides, I want to know what's happening at court now. I have a feeling you have had an opportunity to listen to a lot of gossip from your visitors and servants?"

"Quite a lot, yes," the Lord nodded. "And yes, I could do with some fresh air, and then maybe we can head to the ballroom? Let me fill you in on what the houses are saying first, though… I think you might want to know."

"Definitely," the prince nodded. "So… what is the biggest part of gossip?"

"That you and the King planned this attack together, My Lord… although I don't know if that is true or-?"

"It's not. Deathstroke betrayed me," Robin growled. "They really think I would give my country to Blüdhaven?"

"Well… they say love can make a man do senseless things…"

"Love? For the King?" the prince gaped. "Who came up with that one…?"

"Evil tongues say he has been bedding you since the first night."

"Do these tongues have heads attached to them, and do these heads have names? It would be nice to be able to write those under the spike I'll mount the skulls on," Robin snorted.

"Of course they have names, and they begin with 'Black'… at least that's where some of the nastier rumors originate, I think… from him and his… followers."

"Are you talking about the son or the father?"

"Both. Their influences have grown considerably… they don't even care about the hunting incident anymore. Bryant told me, in a roundabout way, that it would be a pity if my family would turn out to be traitors, now when the Blackgates have the King's complete confidence."

"They have no such thing," Robin snorted. "He's not… bothering you again, is he?"

"No, I think he learned his lesson," the blond said, shaking his head. "But the lower houses are cowering."

"Well… I have never bedded my slave, before or _after _he stole the crown," Robin said firmly. "I'm still the prince, though."

"I should think, so, but.. you have no right to the throne, do you? Blackgate doesn't respect people who have no real power, and, as he sees it, you don't anymore."

"Well, we have to change his mind about that, somehow…" the prince muttered. "I could go to the King, but I'd rather not. You can't fight rumors like these, after all… no one knows the truth apart from me and Deathstroke… but I'm surprised that they would dare to say such a thing… they _are_ accusing the King as well, after all."

"Ah, but as he's from Blüdhaven, our laws doesn't apply to him, do they? And I've heard that laying with someone, of either gender, outside of wedlock in that country is not… unheard of."

"_Barbarians_," Robin snorted. "I'd be surprised if it was against the law to lay with your _animals_ in that country."

"Your Highness!" the blond gasped and then chuckled under his breath. "You might not like this, but I think the 'barbarian' has had an influence over you."

"I'm afraid he has…" the prince sighed. "But maybe I can use that… I just have to aim it at the right people…"

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: okay, either this chapter freaked you out a little or you loved it. I have no idea. Robin 'spanking' Slade? Sorry, but I loved it… ;) Next week Robin will face Bryant and… words will be said.


	25. If Your Horse Says No

A/N: An EXTRA big thank you to this week's beta **Amirrel **who jumped in at the last minute and saved the day. Please bear in mind that she only had about an hour to do it, so no frowning at her IF there's any mistakes left…

Today's title is by Pat Parelli again…

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 25: If Your Horse Says No, You Either Asked the Wrong Question, or Asked the Question Wrong**

The prince had really enjoyed the walk with Lord Riley and by the end of it, the blond headed towards the ball room like they had planned, but Robin put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Let's go into the throne room first, just for a moment," he said.

"You want to see your intended?" Riley smiled a little teasingly, but there was no way Robin could take offence, instead he grinned back.

"As a matter of fact… I do," he said. "But we won't disturb him. There is just something I want to… check."

They entered the throne room, telling the clerks that they didn't request an audience and merely wished to observe the proceedings.

The king spotted them and nodded his greeting. Riley bowed deeply with a small grimace of pain, and Robin nodded back benevolently. They then moved to the side and merely watched for a short while. A few mundane matters were dealt with swiftly, and then the name of a soldier, a captain, was called.

"I know that man, he's from the fort near my family's estate," Riley told Robin softly. The soldier was introduced, and when he was asked about his errand he gestured to the door where five men were dragged in by twice as many soldiers.

"These men claimed to be tax collectors working on Your Majesty's orders. They had been through many small outskirt villages demanding money and goods in your name, My King," the man said. "My commander asks that you decide what should be done with them as we don't know to what laws you hold to."

Slade stared at the accused. He shifted slightly, almost unnoticeable, on his throne and Robin had to hide a grin. This is what he had hoped to see. The prince stayed though, wanting to hear the verdict.

"Are they guilty beyond any doubt?" the man asked.

"We traveled through several of the villages they pillaged on our way back here, Your Majesty, they all knew their faces."

"Well then, hang them. Quarter their bodies. I want one body part to be displayed in each village. Let them know what their king does to those who wrong his people. Keep the heads and put them on display at the main square here in the city. Let their charges and punishment be read at noon for three days so that everyone, illiterate or not, will know what happens to scum like these."

"Yes, My Lord," the captain bowed deeply. "How about what the villages lost?"

"Was anything recovered?"

"Very little My Lord. We believe they hid most of it somewhere to be divided later, but none of them will talk."

"Curious. Did you ask right?" the king smirked. A few people chuckled.

"Why would dead men speak, usurper?" one of the accused spat.

"Quite right," Slade nodded. "So maybe one of you would like to live? Lead the soldiers to your stolen wares and you won't hang. You will be given to one of the villages as a slave and work off your debt to them for the rest of your life."

"It won't be a long one! They will tear any of us apart!" the same man spoke again.

"They will be told not to outright kill you. I'm not saying you'll survive until winter, but the rest of you won't see the sunset. Think about it. We don't need the loot. If you are all eager to see the noose I'll gladly repay the villages from my own pocket." Slade said, looking bored. "If you try to mislead these good soldiers however, I will have them feed you molten lead. Make up your minds on the way to the snares. Take them away."

The captain bowed again before ordering his men to leave. As the accused were dragged away Robin thought he heard them argue about who was going to live.

The prince and Lord Riley withdrew to the ballroom shortly afterwards. Robin was looking forward to some fresh fruit and maybe a glass of wine, but instead he was met by another court. This one, apparently, belonging to Bryant Blackgate.

"Ah, look, the convalescent and the prince bride!" the young man called out. His followers chuckled, but not too loudly, Robin noticed.

"Ah, look, the little girl who is afraid of a pig," the prince replied.

"You call _me _a girl? Has your king bedded you yet? Does it hurt to walk?" Blackgate replied.

"I wouldn't know of such things, but it seems _you_ do. Curious," Robin sneered.

"Pardon me, I'm being rude," Bryant snickered and gave the prince a mock bow. "I'm speaking, after all, to our future queen. Tell me, Robin, what will your wedding gown look like?"

"I'm thinking it will be red…" the young man replied airily. "The exact color of Blackgate blood, actually… or is that green, perhaps? Shall we take a look?"

"You dare threaten me, _woman_?"

"Oh yes, and it's quite fun," Robin smirked. "King Deathstroke is my swords master, after all, and I wouldn't mind the practice."

"I don't fight women."

"No, I noticed that when you ran screaming from that sow… so noble of you, pushing Lord Riley here out of your way and all."

"My father and the King will hear of this and have you punished," the young lord snorted. "This will finally convince His Majesty that he should cut your head off. Well, after he's done plowing you, of course."

"You are really an idiot, you and your father…" Robin snorted. "Do you really think the King listens to _you_ more than _me_?"

"Well, _we_ have the money and the men. Without us, he wouldn't be able to hold this country. Our people would rebel."

Blackgate probably had a point there, Robin realized, but he didn't let that show as he sneered at the taller boy.

"I would hope that the people in this country respect our international laws better than that," the prince said pointedly. "Besides, who says it takes two to command your forces. Father _or _son, I say… and we can always keep you around in a cozy dungeon to make sure your father stays in line… though the dungeons are a bit cramped, so we might not keep _all _of you there."

"Boy whore!"

"Traitor!"

"Prince Robin!" The king's voice made the group jump. "A word?"

"Of course, My King," Robin said with a smile. He had heard that the man wasn't happy with him, but he didn't intend to let others know that he was worried. They walked together towards the end of the large hall, and no one dared follow.

"I need that boy's father for a while longer," Deathstroke told him in a low tone.

"If you are going to tell me to apologize to him, forget it. Behead me right now. I'll let you borrow my sword," Robin growled.

"I wouldn't ask that. Not now. It's gone too far. I wish I had thought to speak to you about this before you two met again… But whatever you can do to minimize the damages…?"

"You mean just cut off his fingers instead of his arm?"

"Robin…" The warning in the man's voice was clear, but it was mixed with amusement.

"I'll try to ignore him… damn, he won't let me… You really,_ really _need his father?"

"The Blackgate's subjects don't like the family very much, from what I gather, but the risk of a rebellion would still be quite great. The Duke has promised his closest men lots of riches to have them follow him to my side, so if I take his head they will feel cheated. So yes, I _do_ need him… at least until I have a firmer grip on this country, more troops sworn to serve me."

"And then I can get back at Bryant?"

"They you can_ skin_ him for all I care, but don't hold your breath. Just because things are quiet now doesn't mean it will stay that way. Word of the takeover has yet to reach the whole country, after all; there might be uprisings in the outer regions, who knows?"

"He said you were more on their side than mine," Robin muttered.

"Oh, that must hurt," the man smirked. The prince glared at him and the king's smirk turned into a grin. "Would you like me to prove to them that you are important to me on a personal level?"

"… yes," Robin said after hesitating for a moment, "but it depends on how…"

"I could kiss you?"

"Not in public!" the prince hissed. "Why can't you vulgar savages not grasp the concept of refined society?"

"Because it is boring?" the man snorted. "But I didn't mean on the lips. The hand, I assume, is acceptable? I've seen it done here occasionally."

"It's _very_ intimate…" the prince hesitated.

"Yes, it's practically fucking." The man seemed to roll his single eye.

"My hand, and it will count as one of your seven kisses," the prince decided.

"You are cruel. Do you want Blackgate to know that you are marrying me against your will?"

"I _am _marrying you against my will!" Robin snorted. "Besides, his father was at the council, I doubt I seemed happy about it."

"Not very, no, but you might have come around after all… it could have been the shock… and the loss of power."

"Ah, good memories…" the prince muttered, "we have so much to bond over."

"I'm glad you see it as well," Deathstroke chuckled. "So? Will you let me show them that they shouldn't get on your bad side?"

"Yes. But the kiss still counts."

"Fine," the king gave a defeated sigh and then led him back towards the group of nobles. "… and I was thinking we could go riding again soon," he said, just as he got into earshot, like they had been discussing those kinds of things the whole time.

"Oh, I would really like that…. may I borrow Slayer again?"

"Of course. Anything for you, My Prince," the man said in such a warm voice it made Robin's ears heat up. "I'm so glad you came to see me, I miss you every second that you're not in the room," he added, making the prince's ears turn an even darker shade along with his face.

"I… I miss you too, Your Majesty," he answered to keep the rouse up.

"None of that formality, please use my name?"

"Yes… S-Slade…" The prince's eyes got a little angry at being forced to be that personal.

"That's my Robin," the king smiled. "I have to leave you now, but we'll have dinner tonight, I hope."

"Of course, I can't wait," the boy replied.

"And you have to tell me all about your day; what you did, who you met, what you spoke about… Your happiness is the most important thing in the world to me," the man said and took the prince's hand in both of his. There were several soft gasps in the room as the king bowed deeply and kissed Robin's hand, letting his lips linger a little bit until the prince thought it was bordering on indecent. His heart was beating so quickly from this whole show that he couldn't muster the good judgment of pulling his hand away.

When the man let go and left, it took a breath or two before the world came back into focus around him. When it did, Robin grabbed Lord Riley's arm.

"Let's go get a glass of wine," he suggested, and then, as he spotted Bryant out of the corner of his eye, he added, "the conversation here was boring me anyway…" Ignoring Blackgate completely, the prince spent the morning talking amiably with everyone who approached him in a friendly manner, and no one dared to be snarky. He then invited ten of them to have lunch with him, including River and Gordon, who had appeared by then. The prince felt it might be time to spend more time with the rest of his 'inner circle' before they all migrated towards Blackgate.

He collapsed in a chair when he returned to his rooms afterwards. He didn't understand why just _talking_ to people took so much out of him. Maybe it was because he couldn't relax; because he had to weigh every word. It was nice to be alone now, at least.

And then there was a knock at the door. In came one of the Blüdhaven guards whom Robin recognized.

"Yes? Birch, was it? What do you want?" he asked, too tired to even try to sound polite.

"The King sent me, Your Highness, I am here to tutor you about Blüdhaven traditions and laws."

"And why would I be interested in those?" Robin snorted. Of course he knew why he should, but the black clouds over his head were gaining strength.

"Because Gotham is a part of Blüdhaven now? Because you will marry our King? Sir?" the soldier said, apparently not at all worried by the young man's tone of voice. "The King thought it was best if you knew some more about our country and I've been told not to let you destroy any documents or nearly kill yourself this time."

"Well, you can try…" Robin muttered, and then realized something, "wait, are you doing this as a… punishment?"

The soldier made a face and nodded. "In a way, My Lord, being a tutor isn't exactly… honorable."

"So what happens if I get away from you again?" the prince smirked.

"I don't really want to find out, My Lord. Let's get started."

Robin wasn't happy about it, but he found himself intrigued once the lesson began. The idea of being forced to be tutored didn't sit well with him, however, and so he planned a little revenge.

Slade was surprised when there was a knock on his door the next morning. He didn't expect anyone for at least another hour. He called for his guest to enter and the guards stationed outside opened the door. This didn't answer any of Slade's questions, though, as he didn't recognize the man. The visitor was thin, rather short, and very… prim.

"Your Majesty, it is an honor!" the man said as he bowed deeply with such flourish that the king half expected him to get tangled up in himself. "My name is Carl, I am the castle's barber."

"Yes? And what is your errand?" Slade asked. It was early, he had a busy day ahead, so busy in fact that he was pretty sure that he wouldn't have time to even cash in some of those kisses with the prince.

"His Royal Highness sent me. He asked me to… help you. Oh dear, I can see he was right too…"

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, I'm sorry Your Majesty, but the Prince seemed to think that it would benefit you if I could make you look a bit more… well… that is…"

"More like a Gotham noble?" Slade asked.

"Yes, I'm glad you agree! So… the beard… Let's get rid of that, and-"

"No."

"But _facial hair_," the man said like the words themselves left a horrible taste in his mouth, "it is for… for… shepherds and woodsmen…"

"The beard stays."

"Well… a trim then? And the hair as well? It's such a pity that hair like yours is kept short, but there are things we could do to tame it, I'm sure."

Slade sighed. "And the prince insisted, I assume?"

"Quite so, Your Majesty."

Slade knew revenge when he saw it, but he _had_ put the boy through a thing or two. Besides, his hair needed a trim. Unless this barber went overboard, he might as well show the young man some good will. "Fine. But be quick, I don't have all day."

* * *

"You must miss you father, Your Highness?" Eleanor asked in a quiet tone. They were in the ballroom as Robin had decided to try to spend more time with his guests and so called friends after all. As usual he was guarded closely, but the men were good at melting into the background, never in the way but always vigilant.

"We were not very close, I'm afraid, but I miss the old times, yes," Robin told the young woman.

"Oh… if it had been mine…" she sighed, clearly barely able to stand the thought.

Her sisters and mother were close by and the prince raised his head when they collectively inhaled. He turned around, following their line of vision, and felt a rush of breath of his own enter his chest.

"At least your future husband is very handsome," Eleanor whispered teasingly as the king came up to them. The women all curtsied deeply, and Claudia began babbling until her mother hit her on the arm with her fan.

"Thank you for sending Carl to me, Your Highness, it seems his efforts weren't in vain," the king smirked and bowed to the young man.

Robin closed his mouth with a little 'click' he was sure the man heard. Slade's hair was perfectly neat and shiny, without looking like it was drenched in oil and perfume like some men's at court did. It also appeared much softer and shaped in a way that really accented his strong, masculine face. Robin had to stop himself from reaching out and touch it. The beard was immaculate as well, again, accenting his features instead of overtaking them. It was a little shorter and not a single hair was out of place. Robin rather hated himself. He had expected the damn barber to follow his orders and shave it all off, or at least make the man look somewhat silly… not better!

"Seems there was a man behind that shaggy dog look…" he grumbled, admitting defeat.

"I'll take that as a compliment," the man said rightfully.

"Now, if we could dress you properly as well…?" Robin's voice was a little bit louder now and openly teasing.

"Don't push it."

"Well, we might make a proper king out of you yet…" the prince shrugged. He heard some very low giggles in the room at that.

"Let's hope we can, and then I can focus on making a proper Blüdhavian out of _you_," the man smirked. "If you excuse me, I have to return to my duties. Ladies," the man bowed to the DiMaggios and then left.

"Mother, I would like to marry a Blüdhavian man, please?" Allyssa snickered silently when the king was out of earshot.

"Me too," Her sister Claudia nodded.

"I just want one of their horses," Eleanor shrugged.

Patricia, the youngest, didn't think her sisters had their priorities straight. "Mother, may I go have a piece of cake now?" she asked.

Lady Katherine sighed and curtsied to the prince. "You'll have to excuse my brood, Your Highness, I'll take them all off your hands now. Girls, come with me. We have an appointment with Lady Mannes for tea."

Robin smiled after the group as they left, most of them grumbling under their breath, and then he heard a dreaded sound: Alfred clearing his throat.

"Yes, what do I have to do now?" the prince asked, dreading the answer.

"Just a few fittings, My Lord, if you would come with me?"

'Just a few fittings' took the rest of the afternoon. Robin knew the tailor had all of his measurements, but apparently wedding clothes required them all to be taken again, not to mention all the fabrics.

"But I like red," he complained, knowing it was fruitless.

"Blue is-" Alfred and the tailor said as one, and Robin raised his hands.

"I know. I surrender."

A knock at the door accompanied by the King's voice, interrupted them.

"Is everyone decent?" the man asked as he entered. "Ah. Pity," he smirked as he discovered the sad truth. "That color looks very good on you," he added as Robin pushed the length of dark red embroidered silk off his shoulder with a sigh.

"They won't let me dress in red, it's all supposed to be blue," the prince almost pouted. Almost. At least there wasn't_ that _much of a protruding bottom lip.

"Why not me in blue and you in red? Would that be so wrong?" Slade asked and his eye bore into the tailor.

"I… but… would it match, Your Majesty?"

"Isn't that your job? Robin, do you want to wear red?"

"Yes?"

"Well, then. The prince will wear red. End of discussion. Your Highness, I wanted to ask you to join me for dinner?"

"Anything to get out of this…" Robin shrugged. "Ow! Damn needles!" he hissed as several sharp points bit into his back.

"We'll be finished here shortly," Alfred said, letting them both know that no one was going anywhere just yet.

"I'll leave you to it then," the king nodded.

"Actually-" the tailor interrupted. "Sir, I wanted to check a few things…"

"Well, now we're having fun," Robin grinned a little while later. He was standing across from the man, who had his arms out and at least as many needles pricking his skin as the prince did.

"Yes, a splendid time. You know, in Blüdhaven we normally get married in the nude…?"

"Liar. You sent Birch to me, remember?"

"Ah, yes. I was just trying to get out of- are you trying to bleed me to death, young man?" Slade barked at one of the tailor's apprentices, who all swarmed around them both.

"I- I- I-" the boy looked close to tears.

"Just get back to work," the king muttered. "Ow," he added a second later and gave a defeated sigh. He looked up to see Robin's smirk and gave him one back. "I'm going to kiss you until you pass out when they are done here," the man promised.

"Don't say things like that in front of people!" Robin gasped.

"Oh, you'd be surprised what I'm ready to say and do to you in front of servants," the man smirked. "Speaking about that; Tailor, I need a private word with you, it's about a gift for the Prince."

"Not necessary!" Robin spoke up. He didn't know what the man could have in mind, but he had a feeling it wasn't anything good. Probably some horrible Blüdhaven fashion statement.

"Of course it is… but to be perfectly honest it's for both of us," Slade grinned and, when the apprentices were done tormenting him, had a few quiet words with the craftsman. Robin glared in their direction. Whatever the king had ordered, it didn't seem to be complicated because it was a very short discussion. The tailor didn't look scandalized by it either, which was a good sign. Robin relaxed somewhat. It was probably something like an outfit with Deathstroke's coat of arms.

* * *

Over dinner the king suddenly looked up.

"I forgot to tell you, the date for our engagement party is set. It's a week from today."

"That soon?"

"Robin, the wedding is in just over two weeks, a week between the engagement and the nuptials is rather short, after all."

"Maybe we should move it back to my_ nineteenth_ birthday?" the prince suggested hopefully.

"I don't think I'd be able to wait that long," the man smirked.

"Is that all you want to do? Bed me?" Robin asked coldly.

"No, what I want to do is make sure my throne, and your head, are safe." the man sighed. "But fucking you is rather high on the list too," he muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing."

"I heard you."

"Well, then…" the man shrugged and returned to his dinner: a ridiculously small bird.

Robin was quiet for a while but he had a question burning on his tongue and, though it was embarrassing, he eventually gathered the courage to ask.

"What if… what if I don't like it? What if it hurts too much?"

"The tenser you are the more it will hurt. My late wife was nervous, as I recall… hell, we both were… We hadn't done much more than kiss before and we were awful in bed for the first couple of nights… If you relax it doesn't have to be painful, though, and there are things you could do..."

Hearing the man admit that he had actually not excelled at something, _anything_, lifted Robin spirits a bit and made it possible for him to ask "What things?" without blushing too hard.

"You can use your fingers, or something rounded and smooth. I'd love to help, but I know better than to offer."

"You're not going to touch me, no," Robin growled. "Not before the wedding."

"It would actually help you a lot, but suit yourself. If you decide to… experiment, make sure to use a lot of that body oil of yours… and don't use anything that isn't completely smooth and long enough so you can keep a good grip on it."

Robin bent over his plate mumbling something, thoroughly embarrassed. Slade, however, decided the conversation wasn't over. "It will feel strange, but the objective is to stretch the muscle around your opening. There's great pleasure to be had from down there if you know what you're doing, but I wouldn't be too disappointed if you don't discover it on your own… it takes practice."

"Fine, fine! I understand!" the prince groaned. "Can we talk about something else? Can we talk about going riding?"

"Oh, yes," Slade leered.

"What? You look like I said something lewd!" Robin frowned.

"You have so much to learn…" the man said, but he _did _look rather pleased about it.

* * *

"That… that was three…" Robin panted. Dinner was over, the king had been about to leave, but wouldn't do so without another kiss. It had been a very long one. The prince wasn't sure if it actually could count as only _one_, as they had both needed to take tiny breaks to breathe, but Deathstroke seemed to think it did.

"I must make another bet with you soon…" the king said huskily.

"Are you sure your behind can take it?" Robin smirked, getting a chuckle in reply.

"Speaking about that…" the man leered, "don't forgot what I told you about… stretching."

"Would you and your vulgar ideas please leave my presence now?" Robin complained, blushing. He clearly wasn't angry, however, merely embarrassed.

"As My Prince wishes. I think we should have a meeting with our valets and others about the engagement tomorrow. I'll ask Bobbins to set it up."

"I suppose there's no way of avoiding it," the prince sighed and nodded. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Dream of me." Slade couldn't help noticing the guilty look on the boy's face. "Ah, I see you already are…?"

"Good_night_," Robin growled and pointed at the door.

* * *

Later, after he had sent Alfred out of the room to enjoy one of his long soaks in the tub, Robin put his hand between his legs and, ever so gently, rubbed at his opening. His former slave had taken every opportunity to do that, the wicked dog, but the young man had to admit that it was… pretty nice. The opening was wrinkled and velvety, but the thought that something the size of Deathstroke's… _tool_, would fit up there was almost laughable. It_ would_ be laughable if it hadn't been Robin's ass. He listened closely, but his valet hadn't returned yet, it seemed. Pressing against the opening he felt his middle finger slowly entering. Robin made a face. It wasn't painful, per se, but it was very, very strange, both 'down there' and how his finger felt. No, he decided, he'd better try it with something else and with oil like the barbarian had suggested… not_ because_ he had suggested it of course! This was merely because Robin himself was curious, nothing else!

He pretended to go to bed, as usual, but as Alfred left the prince was on his feet to search his room for something to… conduct his experiment with. There was a box of fresh candles in a drawer, but those looked a bit too thick. Not as thick as something else he didn't want to think about at the moment, but still a bit too big. His eyes eventually landed on his bone-handle hair brush. It was only just slightly thicker than his thumb, the tip was rounded and it was smooth. Robin grabbed it before he could change his mind, fetched a bottle of oil and scurried into bed, his heart thumping hard and his cheeks burning.

Trying not to spill, he oiled the handle up and then put some on his opening as well. Then came the moment of truth. He scooted down a bit and, after some maneuvering, he carefully pushed the tip against his opening. It felt cold, but the sensation sent a tingle up his spine. The angle was awkward, though, and the brush slipped out of his fingers several times before he was able to get anywhere. When that happened yet again, Robin snorted irritably and let it lie where it was, the tip just resting against his entrance. He was in the wrong position, he assumed, and decided to lie down completely. As he scooted down, however, the brush caught on the sheets and stayed where it was when the young man moved. Robin gasped as the tip unexpectedly pushed inside him. It was out again just as quickly, but now, as he had discovered a way to do this, the prince propped the brush up more steadily and then, slowly, pushed down on it.

He was surprised that after the tip, which was carved in a little bulge, had slipped inside, the rest followed easily; like it sank into him with little or no resistance. He moved his hips back a little, lessening the pressure and felt the brush slowly glide out again, until it stopped just before the tip. A little push and it sank back in. The feeling was… strange. Not necessarily a _bad_ 'strange', though. It didn't hurt and the friction against his opening was… nice.

He was under the covers, it felt safer somehow, and he noticed a tell-tale bulge. He was getting aroused! It wasn't because of how this new experience _felt_; it was more because it was so… naughty. So forbidden! His hands were still slippery from the oil, so as he began stroking his growing length his fingers slid up and down it very nicely indeed.

"Ow!" His hips had began moving a bit faster, pressing harder against the intruding handle, and now he felt the first little bit of pain, as he was penetrated deeper. It was more of a pinch than anything else, though, and just angling his body a little differently made it go away. At the bottom of the brush-handle it bulged out again, wider than the tip, and that now pushed against his entrance. Robin didn't dare go deeper, though, afraid he'd hurt himself.

However, as the pleasure built, his body showed it had a mind of its own. He liked the stretch the extra girth provided and moaned as he pushed against it. Suddenly he felt himself opening up, swallowing the bulge and he arched his back, coming with a cry of pleasure.

After recovering from the climax, however, he felt guilty and dirty again. Removing the handle made him wince and then, of course, he had to carefully clean it and himself up. Luckily he had been able to catch his release in his hand, but his sheets were still a bit damp from where excess oil had soaked into them. Fortunately, the oil was colorless and the prince hoped no one would realize what the stains were. He shook his head and snorted. Why would they, because who _did_ such a thing anyway? He was probably the first one in the castle, maybe in the_ country_, who had done this, he figured. As he rolled over to fall asleep though, he couldn't help but wonder what a candle would have felt like…

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: thank you to **Harry Draco Malfoy** for coming up with the mocking title "the prince bride" in a review… I just HAD to use that one… ;)


	26. A Donkey Always Says Thank You With

A/N: thank you to **Yaoigurl12 **for being my beta this time!

Today's title is a Kenyan proverb, and yes, the fact that is says "donkey" is fitting. You'll see. ;)

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 26: A Donkey Always Says Thank You With a Kick**

Slade, Robin, their respective valets, Wintergreen and some of the senior staff members −including the chef and the tailor− had gathered around a table to try to get at least some details for the fast approaching engagement party in order. Also present was a Blüdhaven scribe and a Gotham magistrate. They both had the same kind of function in their respective countries, apart from the fact that the scribe could actually swing a sword as well, and was one of Slade's soldiers. The way they glared at each other said everything about how the discussions had gone so far.

The king and the prince were both rather calm. Slade because he would agree to almost everything just to make this happen, and Robin because he couldn't really care less.

"In Blüdhaven an engagement party is little more than a reason for the two families to get drunk together…" the king shrugged. "Yes, the dowry is decided and the marriage contract is signed, but there's really very little fuss. I don't see why there need to be."

Robin apparently did, judging by his derisive snort.

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, we have a way of doing things here-" the magistrate began.

"Yes, a damn _complicated _way…" the scribe, Ironwrought, muttered.

"Let him explain," Slade chuckled. "What is the procedure?"

"First there's the Reciting of the Houses, and then-"

"Hold on, I'm afraid you've already lost me. What is this reciting?"

"Well, someone reads the lineages of the houses that are to be joined, going back as many generations as possible. This is done to prove that there are no close relations between the couple and to mention special feats the families have accomplished through history."

"I see… a bit of bragging. And then?"

"Then the appointed witnesses give speeches concerning _why_ the houses should be joined."

"And how are these witnesses appointed?"

"By the family, so by you and His Highness in this case, My Lord."

"Wintergreen? Feel like giving a speech?" Slade smirked at his friend.

"Yes, why not? Can I say what I want?"

"I'd be a bit careful about that, my old friend," the king snorted.

"You need three witnesses per person, I'm afraid, Your Majesty."

"Mine will be Lord River, Lord Riley and Lord Gordon," Robin announced. "The sons, that is, not their fathers."

"Your Highness," valet Bobbins said, "maybe Young Lord Blackgate would be a better-"

"No." Robin's voice left little room for argument.

"I'll have Duke Blackgate for one of mine, then… he seems opposed to this union so it might be fun to watch him defend it," Slade grinned, giving Robin a look. The prince grinned back and nodded. "The third one will be either one of my men or my youngest son, if he makes it here in time."

"Good, then that's settled," the magistrate nodded and made a note.

"Yes," Slade said, groaning on the inside. They had to sit through two history recitals and six speeches? But apparently that was only the start.

"After this the future spouses present a gift to each other. Something personal or suitable. A small speech can be held by-"

"Maybe enough speeches?" Slade interrupted.

"They _do_ like to hear themselves talk…" Ironwrought muttered.

"Very well… then the engagement contract is read, and-"

"Read?" it was, surprisingly, Robin who spoke up now. "Does it have to be? Can't it be kept private?"

"Not at a royal wedding, it's deemed very suspicious, Your Highness," the magistrate frowned.

"Can it be read in part?" Slade asked, wanting to spare the prince what he could.

"I'm afraid not."

"I guess there's nothing we can do about it, then… although maybe our Blüdhaven traditions don't seem so bad now?" the man teased the prince.

"Well, if we can get all the guests as drunk as I'm sure people would at a feast in the mountains, they won't remember a thing anyway," Robin deadpanned.

"Wonderful idea. I hope we have a lot of wine and ale?"

"Ale, Sir?" the chef looked slightly disgusted.

"_That_," Wintergreen said, leaning forward slightly, "we insist on."

"Oh, yes. And we will be able to provide some as well," Slade grinned, knowing they had several barrels left from home. A Blüdhavian might forget to pack his clothes but never his ale.

"Is this the same thing we drank at the inspection-round of your camp?" Robin asked, either because he was curious or because he wanted to show that he knew a bit more about this than the servants did.

"Oh, that was the light stuff. Practically for children," Wintergreen chuckled.

"It caused people to fall off their horses," Robin pointed out. "…So it will do the job then, I suspect."

"Memory loss you can drink," Slade smirked. He had been watching the young man this whole time, and there was something… something in the way the boy shifted in his seat… not out of discomfort, exactly, but… had he actually…? And, more importantly, had he _liked _it? The man couldn't recall getting any glares that morning, though, so dared he hope…?

"My colleague has finished the contract, by the way, if you would both look it over, My Lords, at your soonest possible convenience…?" the magistrate asked, handing a leather folder over to the king, who nodded and put it aside for now.

"So, what's next? After the reading we sign it, I assume?"

"Yes. Then the congratulations will begin," Bobbins explained. "It's customary for guests to present small gifts. Not as grand as the ones for the actual wedding, of course. Some are symbolic or, in some cases, the guests have written poems or songs, but time should be set aside for that before the banquet starts."

"Oh, good, so _then_ we eat and drink?" Slade muttered..

"There will be some entertainment and readings during the feast of course. Musicians, acrobats, poets… it is being arranged. If you have any requests…?"

"No, I will leave that in your hands… unless you, Robin…?"

"No." The prince shook his head. "I'm sure it will be handled perfectly."

"Thank you, Sir," the valet somehow managed to nod in a way that it looked like he had bowed while sitting down.

"Next item on the list?"

"Well, that would be your outfits," the tailor spoke up.

"I'm going to wear traditional Blüdhaven clothes, and I already have those," Slade let them know.

"But Sir-" his valet began.

"No. I think it's important to let my country, this state's _sovereign country_ if I may remind you, show through, especially as you insist on reciting lineages. For the wedding, as we've already discussed, I've agreed to follow Gotham's traditions, but this is an engagement feast and I, and my men, will represent Blüdhaven.

"Are you going to be dressed in loincloths and half-rotten bears skins?" Robin drawled.

"Is that what you dream of seeing me in, My Prince?" Slade leered, making the boy snort and look away. "I assure you that, though they lack lace and ruffles, they are fitting enough."

"My clothes should be more or less finished as well," Robin shrugged.

"Your Highness?" the tailor spoke up, looking nervous. "I am not aware of an order…?"

"I was talking about the outfit for my birthday. It was under construction, wasn't it? And I believe it was in blue, which should make people happy?"

"Yes! Yes, of course! It's almost complete, but we put it aside-"

"It will do very nicely. As I won't exactly have a birthday celebration, I wouldn't use it then either way. If you can get it ready?"

"Of course," the tailor nodded. He seems relived and Robin realized that he had actually lightened his, and his apprentices, workloads quite a bit. Well… Slade had done so even more, he assumed.

"Is there anything else?" the king asked, obviously itching for this meeting to be over.

"About the menu…?" the chef spoke up.

"I'll let you handle this as well," Slade told him.

"Although-" Wintergreen cut in. "Meat is good with ale. Large chunks of it. Venison in particular."

"Someone is tired of the fancy food," Slade chuckled. "But yes, I agree. If deer and wild boar would be served I wouldn't be opposed to it. Just don't ask me and the prince to hunt them down for you this time."

"How about whole roasts, but cut and served in… a somewhat more traditional way, Your Majesty?" the chef suggested carefully.

"I think he suspects we normally tear into the bodies with our hands… yanking a leg off and dragging it to a corner to eat…" Wintergreen sounded half amused, half insulted.

"Well, when you get drunk enough…" Slade grinned and then turned to the chef. "That sounds perfect, thank you. Robin, did you have any wishes regarding the food?"

"No, as long as we're not serving horse, I'm happy," the prince shrugged.

"Glad to hear it," the king smirked. "It should be a happy day, after all."

"I didn't mean-" Robin began but then sighed and shook his head. "Is everything settled now? Nothing else you need our approval for?" he asked Alfred.

"As far as I know, we have the answers. It all depends on how much you want to be involved, really, but if you wish to leave the details to us-"

"We do," Robin and Slade said almost as one.

"Are there any Blüdhaven traditions that we should make room for, My Lord?" Bobbins asked.

"Well, it depends. Do you have a bedding ceremony?" the king asked.

"The bride and groom, that is in traditional circumstances," Bobbins hurried to explain, "are escorted to their bedchamber at the end of the feast, but no further than that. The bride is usually taken there first in order to… get ready. The undressing and the witnessing of the consummation has been mostly abandoned."

"Then we'll do it your way," Slade nodded, while Wintergreen made a little disappointed sound.

"How… How is it done in Blüdhaven?" Robin asked, too curious not to.

"I'm not sure you want to know," the king smirked. "I had my mother-in-law giving me some helpful advice."

"Yes, but… ummm… isn't that a good thing?"

"Not _during_."

Robin's mouth fell open and then closed again with a snap, his face heating up. Was the man _joking_? "I… erm… yeah… we'll… we'll do it _our _way," he said. It would be embarrassing enough to be led to the king's bedchamber, he wanted to sink through the floor just thinking about it, but having people in the room _with _them? No. Beheading was absolutely a better option in that case.

As they were leaving, a servant hurried up to Bobbins and the valet then turned to Slade.

"Your Majesty, the soldiers from Fort Kane are here. They were to act as extra guards? They have gathered in the main courtyard."

"Good. Robin, we should go greet them," the king decided.

"Why? Sinclair can take care of-"

"I don't want two hundred nervous soldiers in this castle. A short, simple speech should put them at ease. Actually, _you_ should hold it," the man said and guided the prince into the corridor with a hand on his back.

"Me? What should I say?"

"I'll leave that up to you… unless you use the words 'attack the king'."

"Ah, there went my brilliant plan…" Robin sighed dramatically.

"I had hoped that you didn't have any of those _left_," Slade muttered.

"Soldiers!" Robin began, his voice ringing out strong and sure, even though he had no idea what he was going to say. "You are the First Regiment of Fort Kane, some of Gotham's finest. I know you have all heard the news; that instead of providing security for me and my guests at my birthday feast you will now do the same for my wedding. I trust I chose wisely when I picked you for my royal guard. The new King does not know you, but I have assured him that you will make him, and me, proud. I ask you to keep the peace and be loyal representatives of the Gotham province, devoted to me and your new King. Now, I'll ask every single one of you…" Robin paused for a moment. "Will you take on this honor?"

His reply was a resounding '"Yes, Your Highness!"

"Nice little speech. I like short ones, you should hold a lecture for the court before our wedding," Slade told him as they headed back, towards the throne room this time.

"I'm afraid you'll be fantasizing about chopping my head off before it's all over, just to make it stop," the prince chuckled dryly.

"I might be fantasizing, but it won't be about your head. Not that one, at least," the king murmured.

"Could you at least _try _not to be a vulgar savage?" the young man sighed, but there was a humor in his voice which definitely hadn't been there just a few days ago.

"I could, but I'd be _dreadfully_ boring," Slade claimed in an aristocratic Gotham accent, making the prince burst out laughing despite himself. "It's nice to hear that sound again," the king continued, giving the young man a warm smile. Robin's face, however, closed off, like he had been caught doing something bad.

"Yes, well… fools are funny…" the prince muttered.

Slade inwardly muttered as well. It was too soon to ask for miracles, he guessed. He suspected that he would have to marry the prince against the boy's will, but at least Robin wasn't _completely_ impossible anymore. Slade just had to work on getting –and staying- on his good side. He wished he had more of those letters from his mother… One of those each week and the prince might thaw completely…

"Should we head to the throne room?" Robin asked, interrupting the king's thoughts.

"Yes, _I_ should at least, but you are welcome to join me?"

"I think I will, or Alfred is going to have something worse planned," the young man shrugged.

"Like fittings?"

"Yes. Or seating arrangements. Though I told him quite firmly that he and the staff know more about that than me… the rules are ridiculous…"

"Ah, _finally_ something that Blüdhaven does better, then?"

"Well… how do you do it?"

"We'll sit where there's a free seat."

"…barbarians…" Robin chuckled. "Really? You do? For official dinners as well?"

"No, I'm afraid not. But I'm sure our rules aren't half as complicated as yours."

"Of course not. _Everything _about you mountain dwellers is quite… simple," the prince smirked.

"Keep that up and I'll go completely feral and kiss you in the middle of the throne room."

"You wouldn't _dar_- oh, wait. Of course you would. Please don't. You're all_ terribly_ complex, all right?"

Slade chuckled. "Yes. And incredibly handsome."

"Yes, well, _that _I agree with," Robin nodded.

"Really?" Slade didn't believe it for a moment, of course, but he was still curious.

"Yes, your soldiers are very fine men. Pity something seems to happen with your looks after thirty…"

"I'll kiss you _and_ dip you…" Slade muttered.

"Dip?" Robin asked. "What's that?"

So, as they were in an empty corridor at the moment, with only their guards seeing them, Slade demonstrated.

"Let me up!" Robin gasped, his blue eyes wide, like he wasn't sure if the man intended to hurt him or not.

"Yes, the up part is the best…" Slade smirked, and made sure their lips met as he slowly got the prince back on his feet again.

"We're not alone!" the boy gasped as the man let him breathe again.

"They are just my men. Did you see anything, boys?" Slade asked over his shoulder.

"Not a thing, Your Majesty!" the soldiers claimed as one.

"Well, you're quite useless then, aren't you?" Robin muttered. "I think I should have some _Gotham_ guards who can protect me from your king."

"I'm sure they would die valiantly, Your Highness," one of the soldiers deadpanned.

It turned out the extra soldiers weren't the only ones to have arrived today and the two royals spent the afternoon in the throne room greeting guests who had come for the celebrations. Many had traveled quite far and would stay for a couple of weeks before returning home. Robin knew that there were balls, picnics and other festivities planned to keep them entertained during their stay. This had been in the works since the plans for his birthday had begun and was nothing he needed to concern himself with. He was a prince and, though he was the host, he wouldn't be required to participate in all of the activities. He was sure Slade would drag him to one or two, though, to make sure they both made a good and stable impression.

Hiding in his rooms only meant that Bryant Blackgate was free to spread his filthy lies and jokes. Robin couldn't understand how he dared be so openly rude… But Bryant did nothing without knowing he had his father at his back, meaning that the Duke was of the same opinion… just not so openly so. Robin was pretty sure Blackgate, the elder one that was, had had something to do with the assassination attempt on him. He knew Deathstroke thought so too, but it was obvious that the man wouldn't do anything about it. Robin snorted quietly to himself. Yes, the Duke was important. His support –even if it was fake- kept quite a lot of people, aristocrats and regular citizens, fairly calm… The prince couldn't help feeling like the king should hold the man by an ankle over a vat of boiling tar for just the _suspicion_ of being involved, though… For once he didn't _want_ the man to be civil, but then he decided to be… typical…

"What did I do now?"

"Huh?" Robin blinked at the king's words. They were still sitting in their thrones but the prince hadn't heard a single word for at least ten minutes.

"You glared at me. Did I breathe wrong?"

"Oh… no, no, it wasn't your fault, I was just thinking of the Blackgates…" Robin spoke quietly, knowing from experience that their voices wouldn't carry to other's ears if he did.

"My men are looking into them," the king reminded him.

"I know," the young man sighed. "There needs to be proof…"

"Exactly," the man nodded and then gestured for the next order of business to be presented.

Robin had a thought of his own then, though… maybe he should try to 'look into' the Blackgates as well? He promised himself to take the opportunity if it would present itself, but that was pretty much all he could do at the present.

At dinner in the king's quarters that evening, the northerner had some news for him.

"I've spoken to Lord DiMaggio. I understand you would like a book by a relative of his. I've ordered a copy to be made. He assured me that would hire the best artist available to copy all the illustrations as well as color them… and he will include some of the man's original sketches as well."

Robin was speechless for a moment. "Thank you," he then blurted out and smiled. "Thank you! I love his books, and we can include the Blüdhaven Warhorse now as well!"

"I'm glad you liked the idea."

"Yes… it's a great engagement present, thank you again!"

"Engagement present? No, no, this was just a courting gift. You could just as easily have ordered a copy yourself, after all… you probably_ would_ have eventually. Now you just get it a bit earlier."

"Oh."

"I _am_ courting you, remember?" the man smirked.

"Yes, I just didn't really know what it… meant."

"I'm more or less making it up as I go along. There are no set rules. I'm sure there _would_ be if I went by Gotham traditions…"

"Maybe, I'm not sure. Courting is more for alliances that aren't already… decided."

"Yes, I remember having to impress Adeline's family quite a bit. She had a brother who was… tough."

"Adeline… she was your wife?"

"My queen, yes."

"And… you were happy?" Robin wasn't sure why he asked, or why it felt so strange to ask, but he did anyway.

"Very. I never thought I could love someone as much as I came to love her…" the man got a faraway look in his eye while Robin felt his stomach shrink a little.

"I'm… sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

They didn't speak much after that, and when the man required a kiss before he left, the prince simply accepted, sinking into the king's arms, trying to console him. Robin couldn't explain why, but the man had done a very nice thing for him and that gesture had reminded him of his loss… leaving the young man to feel slightly guilty. His own losses were much more recent, granted, but the king had gone through a lot in his life as well, it hadn't exactly been smooth sailing on calm seas. Robin couldn't imagine what it must have been like to already have been to war at his age, especially as seeing one man die at his feet had been hard enough.

"Your Highness? Aren't we heading back to your rooms?" his guard asked him. Robin looked up. He hadn't really even been aware where he was walking after he had left the king's chambers.

"I… no, actually… I think I'm going to just take a walk. I need to clear my head a little. Are you free to come with me?"

"Of course, Your Highness," the guard bowed, and now Robin noticed that it was Birch again. There were a handful guards taking turns watching over him, it seemed. He gave the man a grin. "I promise I won't try to shake you off."

"Please don't, your Highness, or King Deathstroke will reintroduce blood sacrifice at your wedding feast… me."

"Nah, it's long-winded enough, I think…" the prince smirked. "Though it might be less boring than speeches…"

They walked all around the castle's winding and sometimes confusing corridors. Robin, of course, knew them all like the back of his hand. Having been quite a lonely child, despite the attention his title gave him, he had explored the whole building and its annexes many times over. He knew which routes to take if he didn't want to be spotted, or at least meet very few people, and he led Birch along those now, simply to think.

His paths eventually led upwards, towards the castle's roof and, ultimately, one of the towers. It was one above the finer guest quarters and it was usually empty, and so it was now as well. Robin leaned against the battlement and looked out over his city as the sun was setting. It looked very peaceful from up here. It _was_ pretty peaceful, he thought. Sure, there were muggings and worse crimes too, just like any other city, but all in all… he took a deep breath of the salty sea air as he lifted his eyes to look out over the vast waters. He had once asked Bruce what was on the other side, but he hadn't known. All the ships leaving the large harbor sailed along the coastlines and up large rivers. Some said that if you followed the coast long enough, you would end up at the back you started, but Robin didn't know if that was true. There had been expeditions, he remembered seeing one off from this very port when he was around ten, but no one had returned.

He was interrupted in his thoughts by the sound of heavy feet coming up the winding staircase. He was going to just wait for whoever was coming and call out a greeting when he heard a voice he knew and loathed.

"And what is your opinion of our new ruler?" Duke Blackgate asked someone.

Robin gestured to Birch to follow and drew back behind a protruding wall featuring a sculpted stone beast. Robin had named him 'the bat' as a boy and had spent hours up here fantasizing about flying down into the city with the beast, carried in its talons by its mighty wings, going on adventures. Now, however, it hid him and the guard well enough.

"King Deathstroke seems to want to serve his people well," answered a different voice. Robin recognized it vaguely… it belonged to Sebastian Hady, a lord and landowner who was pretty influential and a close relation to the Sprang Rivers, if Robin remembered correctly.

"Of course, of course… my sentiments exactly," the Duke responded. "After all, he seems to enjoy serving… after all he served the prince rather well, didn't he?" The men chuckled a little.

"Yes, yes, that's… quite a story there…" Hady said. "He_ is_ our king, now, though. Nothing to do about that."

"No, of course not. And perish the thought that anyone would _want_ to… it's the law, after all… but did you know that he got _whipped_ for bedding a _kitchen maid_? Really… is that the kind of king one would want on one's throne? I mean… if there was an option, of course."

Robin could see how Birch was gripping the hilt of his sword and put a hand on the man's arm. If there was more to hear, he wanted to hear it.

"Would you rather see Prince Robin on the throne, then?" Hady asked.

"Gods no, that bastard of a whore's son? Bruce picked him up from a ditch somewhere… King Wilson has the right idea there: strip him of his titles and keep him as a bed-slave. He's pretty enough for it, I assume… but him _ruling_? No… the king didn't do the country a favor there, keeping him alive."

"Curious he did, though, don't you think?"

"I was _very _surprised. He must be a good lay, I assume, there's no other reason for it as far as I can see… but again, a king who lets his head be turned by kitchen maids and boys… not that I'm am not loyal to him, of _course_ I am-"

"We _both _are," the other man cut in.

"Yes, without a doubt! But one cannot help to question the man's morals… he's mountainfolk, though, his morals were never going to be strong, were they?" the Duke chuckled again.

"They are quite an untidy lot, aren't they?" Lord Hady added.

"Quite. A pity that he isn't from Gotham. A highborn Gotham lord is what this country needs right now… and soon we'll be ruled by his son, I've heard… we won't even have a _king _on the throne, but a mere _chancellor_… Loyalty aside… I fear for this country, my friend… had we only known about Blüdhaven's treasures sooner, I would personally have lead my men into the mountains and liberated them from those… and now the Blüdhaven king is in our capital instead."

"Pardon me, Duke Blackgate, but you helped the king _get_ there, after all…" the other man spoke up.

"That I did, that I did… I had given up any hope of Bruce fathering an _actual _son… couldn't stand the thought of that little foundling as my king, I'm afraid… and the riches from the mountains… but when the king showed up here, as a bed slave… was walked around by a _leash_… I regretted it, my friend, I really did… alas… As you make your bed, so you must lie in it I suppose…"

"Yes… much too late now… isn't it?

"Yes… yes… Why don't we go down to my quarters for a nice glass of brandy, my friend? The wind is quite chilly, isn't it?" the Duke suggested.

"Quite so, quite so," the lord mumbled and soon their steps descended down the stairs again.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: the name Sebastian Hady was taken from the DC universe. He was one of Gotham's Mayors. As usual I only borrowed the name, although the canon character was quite corrupt as I understand it… ;)


	27. In Riding a Horse We Borrow Freedom

A/N: thank you to **elyador** who was the beta this time!

And I must apologize: I just realized that I haven't answered reviews this week! It's been a bit crazy… I might actually be a bit slack on that front for a while, because I'm desperately trying to catch up on writing two stories at once, + we're having a bit of a Sladin giveaway in the facebook group for the next three week… so I'm very sorry, but that, of course, means I won't hassle you about reviewing! ;)

Oh, I drew a little sketch for this story. I you haven't seen it, head over to my dA account (link in my bio).

The quote for today's title is by Helen Thomson.

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 27: In Riding a Horse We Borrow Freedom**

"I'm going to report this to the King at once. Come with me, My Lord," Birch said and stood up.

"_I'm_ going to report this, but you can come with _me_," Robin told him firmly.

"Oh. Of course, Your Highness, I apologize."

"It's quite alright, we were both insulted. 'Bastard of a whore's son' indeed. And my _father_ was from Blüdhaven!"

"He was, Sir?"

"Yes."

"But… um…"

"Yes?" Robin asked dryly.

"Well, Your Highness… you _do_ tend to tease the king for being… well…"

"A barbarian? He is! Doesn't mean I'll let anyone_ else_ call him that, though!" Robin snarled and then narrowed his eyes at the guard. "Why are you smiling?"

"No reason, My Lord. Shall we go?"

"We shall. And put that grin away before we reach the king, will you?"

"I'll do my best, Your Highness."

The guards outside the royal chambers stepped to the side when they walked up to them, and as Deathstroke never bothered to knock, neither did the prince. Granted, it wasn't like he was walking into the man's bedroom, just the front sitting room.

"Your Majesty!" Robin called out. It was pretty late by now, and he secretly wished the man had gone to bed. Not so, unfortunately, because the king walked out of his study at that moment. It seemed, however, that he had finished all his official business for today, as he was only half dressed in a pair of trousers and a partly open shirt. Half dressed, according to Gotham standards that was.

"Robin? Birch? What happened?"

"So…" the prince concluded as they finished telling the king what they had overheard, "it doesn't seem like your best friend wants to play with you anymore…"

"Once a traitor always a traitor," Slade shrugged. "He sold his loyalty towards your father for more money and power, after all… He has been useful to me but that didn't mean I ever _trusted _him."

"I've been meaning to ask you…" Robin said hesitantly. "Did you… um..."

"Yes?"

"Did you instruct him to tell me how to treat you?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't know what to do with a slave at first-"

"I noticed," the man leered.

"Oh, be quiet. Duke Blackgate gave me some _advice_. He sought me _out_ to give it to me, actually. Told me to keep you on a short leash. Punish every disobedience… preferably by whipping you."

"And you thought I _ordered_ him to do that? Does it seem that I _like_ to be whipped?" the man said dryly.

Robin couldn't help giving him a wide, somewhat evil, grin. "Well… no. But both the Duke and Bryant seemed very 'concerned' with your behavior… didn't they?"

"Yes. Maybe more than I realized at the time. I thought the young Blackgate acted on his own, not knowing who I really was, but I think it's pretty clear that his father told him everything…"

"To… undermine you? To make sure you were humiliated as a slave so he could use that to his advantage once you took the throne?"

"Exactly. You are very clever… for a Gotham raised prince," the king smirked. Robin snorted, as he knew the man was just teasing him. "Letting you live might actually_ have_ been a good political move."

"Oh, thank you," the young man muttered.

"Birch, go get Wintergreen. And of course I don't want a single word of this passed on. I will inform you all when, or if, we make a move."

"'_If_'?!" Robin gaped and the soldier looked like he wanted to object too.

"I know what I'm doing," the king snorted. "Go. I'll make sure the Prince gets back to his room safely once we've discussed this in more detail."

Robin, who had just realized that he would be included in the council, stayed silent now. He would, of course, have _insisted_ on being part of the discussion, but it felt good that the man had included him without any prompting.

"Take a seat, Wintergreen won't be here for a few minutes at the very least," the king said, gesturing to one of the deep armchairs in the sitting room.

Robin did as he was bid and courteously looked away as the man buttoned his shirt.

"What did you mean 'if' we make a move?" the prince than asked. "If it was up to me, the Duke would be dragged across the courtyard to be beheaded as we speak!"

"Maybe there is still a way we can use him," the king insisted. "But I want Wintergreen's opinion on this as well. Are you hungry? Should I send for something from the kitchen?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine," the prince nodded.

"How about a glass of wine, then?" Deathstroke offered. "Red or white?"

"Red," the prince sighed as it was quite rude not to accept anything.

Wintergreen arrived shortly, got a glass of wine as well, and was then filled in on all the details. The three men had taken a chair each. They now faced each other with a small low table in the middle and, to the left of Robin, the embers in a large fireplace bathed the room in a reddish light.

"What did you mean when you said it was a good idea to let me live?" Robin asked the king.

"It was always a good_ idea_, Robin, I said 'good political move'," the man grinned at him.

"You being alive has probably made it harder for the Duke to gain followers, Your Highness," Wintergreen explained. "You represent normality −the past− after all… and if _you_ support Slade, why wouldn't _they_?"

"Which is why he has to try to drag your name in the dirt as well," Slade added, "drumming into anyone who will listen that you're not a true Wayne… had you been that, it would be close to impossible for him to get anyone to listen, I would think."

"So… he wants to start a rebellion?" Robin frowned. "I know he's a powerful man, but I always thought he was a bit of a… coward… Also it would be against the War Laws, the other nations would object."

"I like it when you defend me," the king smirked. "I wonder if he truly plans to seize the throne, though. Maybe, just maybe, that was his original plan, but in that case it's much too late now."

"He seemed to say so, though… he said the throne needed a highborn Gotham lord…"

"Yes…" Slade hummed. "William, old friend, what does your gut tell you?"

"That he's currently just seeing how much support he might gain and will act according to that. At worst a rebellion, at 'best' he'll wait until Joseph is the chancellor here and then try to be real power behind the throne, so to speak…"

"But a rebellion would still be against the War Laws!" Robin objected. "Will the other countries really look the other way? Especially Steel and Metropolis, they are our allies!"

"_Gotham's_ yes, not Blüdhaven's. Unfortunately Blüdhaven doesn't have any official supporters. If Blackgate undermines me enough, and then quickly attack the mountains…" Slade mused.

"I won't let that happen," Robin growled.

"Thank you. I didn't quite expect your support to be_ that_ great," the king grinned.

"No Blackgate will ever get any closer to the throne for as long as I'm alive," the prince snorted.

"Your support, Your Highness, might be more important that we have imagined," Wintergreen nodded. "Only during the last couple of days, as the court has seen you more, and especially seen you two_ together_, the atmosphere has changed; calmed down. There's more support for you _both_ now. If you keep that up…"

"Of course," Robin nodded.

"But there's something else," Slade cut in. "Like you said; for as long as you're alive… and the son is obviously trying to undermine you like his father is me. You can't get into any more shouting matches with him, Robin, no matter what… if the others see that his words rattle you…"

"I know." Robin took a deep swig of his wine. "Wouldn't it be a good idea to break up his little circle, though?"

"Yes, very. But can you do that without challenging him outright?"

"Yes," Robin smirked. "Yes, I think I can…"

"Good." Slade nodded. "Let me know if you need any assistance. Wintergreen, inform your most trusted men to keep an extra eye out. We need more eyes and ears in the castle as well, just make sure to pay them well for their silence. We won't let on anything for now, because as long as it's not out in the open, Blackgate is still working for us… but look into his family. I have a feeling it will soon be under new management, and I need to find a suitable branch of the house to take over. Preferably one which is easy to control."

"I have a feeling that the duke's head on their front gate will keep them in line," Wintergreen smirked.

"How about Duke Sprang River? He is bound to be in on it too, deeply… but he is my friend's father…" Robin said hesitantly.

"We can't take that into consideration, I'm afraid… unless he innocent, which I doubt, or redeem himself in some way. I'll approach him."

"Do you think anything will happen before the wedding?" the prince asked.

"Not before the engagement feast at least… once you signed the contract you give up your claim to the throne, after all… he would want _that _to happen…"

"Maybe I don't have to-" the prince began.

"Robin…" Slade sighed.

"Fine. I know."

"You will be more powerful than any other member of court," the man tried to sooth him.

"Apart from you and your sons."

"Yes." The man held his gaze calmly but assertively until Robin gave a minute shrug and looked away. There was clearly no point in challenging Deathstroke in this, especially as he had already agreed.

"So… are we finished here?" the prince said.

"Yes, but-" Slade gave Wintergreen a look. "Is everything prepared?"

"Yes, My Lord," the general nodded and gave Robin a little grin.

"What… what is prepared?" the prince asked suspiciously.

"It was supposed to be a surprise for when you wake up tomorrow morning, but with everything that is coming up I thought we needed one last reprieve. You and I are going riding tomorrow. All day. Just the two of us," the king told him.

"Really? But… can we really _leave_? Is that wise?"

"Pennyworth, Bobbins and Wintergreen will all cover for us. No one will know that we're even out of the castle apart from them and the Stable Master. We are supposedly held up in meetings and preparations all day. That is, if you want to go?"

"Of _course _I want to go! May I ride Slayer again?"

"I doubt I could convince you to take another horse, so yes." The king smiled, pleased with the young man's enthusiasm. "There is one condition, though."

"Oh… what?" Robin was on his guard again.

"You'll wear what I tell you."

"W-what?"

"Alfred will bring you the clothes tomorrow morning, and speaking of which…" Slade looked at the mantle clock. "You better get back so you'll get at least a few hours of sleep. We'll leave right before sunrise."

"But… the clothes... what…?" Robin objected.

"They won't be indecent, I promise," the king snorted.

"Are those the ones you talked to the tailor about?" Robin wanted to know.

"No, that was something else," the man said offhandedly as he reached out to help Robin up from the chair. The young man took his hand, more or less automatically, and soon found himself shown out the door with Wintergreen and one of the king's guards as escort.

* * *

"Good morning, Your Highness."

Robin yawned as he sat up, blinking blearily at Alfred who was lighting the lamps in the room.

"Wha- Oh! The ride!"

"So you know, My Lord? I was under the impression that it would be a surprise?" the valet said.

"Well, I spoke to the King last night and he told me," Robin smiled.

"Oh, good…" the old man sighed. "I was afraid I would have to explain the clothing."

"I forgot about that. How bad is it?" the prince asked curiously as he got out of bed.

"I believe it is a traditional Blüdhaven riding outfit. I'm afraid it wasn't made to your measurements, though…"

"He's giving me _used_ clothes?" Robin muttered.

"I suspect nothing else was available, My Lord. If you would like to refuse I have a more appropriate outfit ready?"

"Thank you, but I assume this is just part of that price I have to pay, isn't it?" the poor prince sighed.

Once he was dressed it turned out the clothes fit surprisingly well. The full length trousers were mostly made of linen but the inner parts of the legs and the seat was a supple leather. Both the fabric and the leather was a dark brown, almost black color. The waist was a great bit lower than Robin was used to and rested low on his hips, held up by a sturdy belt. Into the trousers an off-white linen shirt with long sleeves was tucked. On top of that a thick leather vest in the same color as the trousers. It was buttoned all the way down the front and was more protective gear than clothing as far as Robin was concerned. His own silk waistcoats were usually highly decorated pieces of art, but this looked like something a blacksmith would wear. Robin snorted. Barbarians.

There were boots as well, wide enough to tuck the trousers into, and folded at the top. They fit well enough so Robin didn't make a fuss. To finish it all off was a short leather jacket in dark oxblood red. The prince studied himself in the mirror as Alfred fussed around him, apparently trying to determine if the shirt's cuffs were supposed to be visible or not.

"The jacket is very short, isn't it?" Robin noted as he turned around, looking over his shoulder. His jackets all reached almost to his knees, this one however, showed the seat of his pants. "I feel practically _naked_," he added.

"I'm sure His Majesty will be dressed in a similar fashion," his valet tried to comfort him, and at that moment the door opened and the old man was proved right.

Slade had some trouble looking away from the sight that greeted him in the prince's bedroom. Although he had seen the young man completely naked, only that could measure up to how desirable he looked at this moment. Without any lace, embroidery or shiny buttons the young man came across less like a pretty doll and more… wild… strong… everything Slade himself was drawn to.

He was dressed in his own travel gear, with the same kind of color-scheme as Robin's but a duller, grayish black. He was glad he had found the prince these clothes… the fact that most of them had been left behind by the Blüdhaven boys wasn't something he thought he should mention… the prince would drown in most of his guard's garments, though.

"You look stunning," he admitted to the young man who immediately donned a mixed expression of disbelief and embarrassment.

"Thank you… you look… shall we go?" the Gotham Prince seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say mid-sentence… or maybe he lost his courage.

"Yes, lets hurry before the castle wakes," Slade nodded and escorted the young man out. Before they took to the hallways, however, he gave the boy a woolen hooded cloak of the kind that travelers might wear. He donned one himself as well. "Just to make sure no one sees our faces," he explained. "Besides, the mornings are still cold."

They made it to the stables unnoticed and there the Stable Master himself was waiting with the horses saddled and ready. Both animals had saddlebags which the prince assumed were filled with provisions so they really could stay out the whole day. Robin felt his heart pound excitedly, like he was running away or heading out on an adventure of some kind… which he guessed he _was_, more or less. They left through the stable gate and were soon galloping through the countryside, just as the first rays of the sun made the dry winter grass look like strands of gold.

They both took off the cloaks quickly, because it seemed that the warm spring weather was back with a vengeance today and soon the sun was beating down on them. Slade took off his short jacket too after a while and, after a bit of hesitation, Robin did the same.

They traveled by small roads, usually only paths, keeping away from towns and farmsteads. The saw people working the fields and herding animals, but all from a distance. They had breakfast in the saddle, just bread and cheese washed down with apple cider, but it tasted better than eggs and ham to the prince.

"Are you enjoying yourself Your Highness?" the king asked after a while.

"Yes. Let's do this forever!" Robin grinned.

"Would you settle for 'as often as possible'?" the man smiled back.

"I have to, don't I?" the young man shrugged and took a deep breath of fresh air. "This is absolutely amazing. Are we heading somewhere in specific?" he asked as he saw that the king had a map in his hands and was checking it.

"Yes, I was told of a very good fishing stream. We should reach it by lunch."

"Fishing? You want to fish?" Robin arched an eyebrow.

"There's nothing that tastes as good as fresh trout fried over open fire," the man told him.

"Fine… but I hope you brought other supplies… just in case," the prince smirked.

"Don't ever doubt I can provide for you." The tone was teasing, but there was just a hint of seriousness in it.

"I'm just saying that maybe Blüdhaven trout is stupid enough to be easily caught and Gotham trout isn't?" Robin teased him back.

"Let's see if it is, shall we?" the man grinned and spurred his horse on.

The steeds seemed tireless. They soared over every single fallen tree crossing their path and Robin felt like he was flying. At the same time he had never felt so safe as he did on top of the stallion's wide back. He was one with the horse in a way he couldn't quite explain, but it felt fantastic. Still, riding took its toll on the body and his stomach was also beginning to churn in a reminder that it was soon time for lunch. Fortunately they reached the stream which was quite wide with melting water but not more than about knee deep.

"There's fish here?" Robin, who knew very little about fishing, asked, thinking the water was too shallow.

"So they say, at least. Lets water the horses and light a small fire first, and then we shall see."

The man claimed they didn't have to tie the horses up; they were trained not to wander far. Once the king had taken the heavy saddles and bags off their backs, Robin led them to the water where he took off their bridles, hoping the man had been right, because if not it would be a long walk home.

After that, however, he became unsure of what he was supposed to do. Light a small fire? Where did you start? You had to build something, didn't you? At least the ground here was stony and there were a lot of smooth rocks around, although the prince didn't quite know where to begin. In any other company he might have sat down and let others handle things, but he didn't want to seem useless. Not in front of Slade.

"Could you gather some firewood? There should be dead, dry branches under the trees over there," the man then called to him.

Robin nodded, feeling gratitude not only because the man had actually_ asked_ him, not ordered, but because he had told him _what_ to look for and _where_.

Slade hid a grin as the young man trudged off. He hoped the boy hadn't picked up on his 'helpful hints'. He wasn't going to wait on the prince hand and foot, though. Instead he wanted to, subtly, teach him how to fend for himself.

He prepared a good spot for the fire, not too far from a large boulder which would be nice to lean against while eating. He rolled out the blanket he had brought as well, because he imagined that the prince had limits, and sitting directly on the ground was probably one. Folded lengthwise the thick wool blanket would provide a nice cushion for them both, though.

Now to the fishing, or rather, the tools. He walked along the bank until he came to a thicket of willow saplings. He found a good one, about as thick as his thumb, and chopped it off. At the top it split into several smaller branches and he cut those off as well and sharpened the stumps, ending up with something that looked a bit like a large, clumsy fork.

"You're going to fish with_ that_?" the prince asked incredulously as he came back.

"Yes. Spearing the fish is how we do it in waters like these in the mountains," the man explained.

"And you _did _bring more food, just in case?" The price didn't seem to give this method a lot of merit.

"That I did. Do you want to try yourself? I could cut you a branch?"

"I think I'll get quite enough entertainment from watching you, thank you," the prince grinned.

"You might," the king admitted. "It has been quite a while since I've done this. But first, let's get the fire started. I want nice hot embers to cook my catch over."

"The only thing you are going to catch in these waters is a cold," the boy said amiably. He had returned with enough wood, however, so soon a fire was lit. Slade instructed the boy on how to feed it as he sat on a rock to pull off his boots. That wasn't _all _he pulled off, though.

Robin wasn't quite quick enough on the uptake and didn't realize that the man intended to remove his trousers until it was done. The prince looked away so rapidly that he felt a pang of pain in his neck, though the king didn't seem bothered at all.

Out of the corner of his eye Robin saw the man tie his trousers around his hips by knotting the legs together at the front. They hung down enough to make him appear somewhat decent, so the prince could actually look back once more without blushing too much.

"You could have done that behind a tree," he muttered.

"Thought I'd give you a treat so you'll dream of me some more," the king smirked and removed his jacket and vest too.

"I _will_… nightmares…" Robin muttered. What he had_ actually_ thought when he had caught a glimpse of it was 'it's thicker than those candles'. Not that he hadn't _known_ that, but he hadn't seen the man naked for a while now, and not after finding out what was expected of him… which seemed as ludicrous as ever. The brush handle had felt good, but that had been quite thin, barely more than a finger... In fact Robin had found himself looking at objects with different eyes since then… the handle of a riding crop, a cane an old man at court had been holding, even the turned leg of a chair had made him wonder if- The young man groaned at his own perverted mind, a mind poisoned by a certain king who was now, slowly, wading out into the streaming water.

Slade moved upstream, carefully, on the slippery rocks. The water was cold but clear and he had noticed a tell-tale swirl on the surface as they rode up, so he knew there were fish here. How big they were and how far they had been scared off, from them clamping around on the bank and the drinking horses, he didn't know though.

He kept his eye on the banks, especially where they were a bit overgrown, and soon he saw the spotted back of a trout, a brown trout if he wasn't mistaken. He couldn't help but glance backwards to see if Robin was watching. He was. Still moving very slowly he got into position, raised the spear and slammed it down. And missed.

"The Gotham fish giving you trouble?" the young man snickered.

Slade didn't bother answering. Fishing was done in silence. That was one of the few things his father had had time to teach him before his skull had been cracked open by an axe during a border dispute. Well. Slade had put an end to _those_, at least.

To the prince's dismay he managed to put an end to two very nice trouts as well, and just in time for the fire to be perfect. He had already thrown the last fish onto the bank when he slipped.

* * *

"I could go get the other saddle blanket for you?" the prince offered a while later. Slade had wrapped the picnic blanket around himself as his trousers and shirt had been hung up to dry.

"No, the sun is warm enough, thank you. How is the trout?"

"Heavenly," the prince admitted freely. Slade had cleaned the fish, turned the filets over in breadcrumbs, spices and crushed almonds before frying them in a pan with plenty of butter. "The best thing I've ever eaten. I'm considering sending you back into the stream for more…"

They were sitting next to each other against the boulder, the sun warming them, especially Slade, nicely. The water had been almost shockingly cold but one thing warmed the man's heart: Robin hadn't started laughing before making sure that he wasn't injured. In fact, he had looked scared and was on his way into the water when Slade had found his feet again. That _had_ to be a good sign.

"I'm glad you liked it… which reminds me, I have a present for you. Look for a wrapped package in that saddlebag."

"Another one?" Robin asked but rummaged through the bag. "This?" he added, holding a rectangular parcel wrapped in linen.

"That's the one. Open it."

"Oh, a book. Is this one about horses too?" the prince asked.

"No, it's about myths and legends from Blüdhaven. I thought it might be interesting… and there are stories about horses in it too… like the river horse that drowns it's riders if you don't know how to handle it… and the thunder-horses who are said to be the ancestors of the warhorse…"

Robin flicked through the pages, stopping here and there where there were illustrations of ancient heroes and monsters. When he wanted to read the words, though, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"It's in Blüdhavian…"

"Yes, but it's not _too_ much difference once you get used to it... I've been reading Gotham texts after all. The language in that one might be a bit old-fashioned, though."

Robin gave it a try but it was very much like reading the old laws, so he handed the book over to the king. "Read to me." It was _almost _a question, not an order. But only almost.

Slade chuckled as he took the book and found a story he was pretty sure the prince would like. Robin closed his eyes, his face lifted towards the sun, and listened to the man's voice. He wished they could just stay here, in this perfect moment, forever.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: so many of you were crying out for blood after the last chapter, are you disappointed? Or were your feelings soothed by the fluff at the end…? ;)


	28. Horses are Uncomfortable in the Middle

A/N: thank you to **Monster of Cookies **for being my beta this time.

Today's title has been attributed to both Christopher Stone and Ian Fleming, and I've heard it here and there, so there might be other people involved too… ;)

I'm still really bad at answering reviews… but I'm falling behind on writing so I won't be getting much better right now, sorry!

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 28: Horses are Uncomfortable in the Middle and Dangerous at Both Ends**

"That story about the mine-ghost was rather frightening…" Robin said as they rode home from their day of freedom. It was beginning to get dark. They had stayed by the stream for almost three hours and then ridden on, stopping for another small meal late in the afternoon, but the cheeses, cuts of cold chicken, fruit and bread were nothing compared to the trout, Robin thought. Not even the wine helped.

"It's not a ghost per se, more of a… spirit… although it takes many shapes," the king told him. They were riding slowly, side by side, after finally making the horses a bit tired. Robin was sure Slayer could still run for miles if he had to, though.

"But that knocking… is it true?"

"Grant claims he heard it in the mines once, just before a small cave-in… the knocking is a warning, like the story says, but… I don't know. Mountains make many strange sounds."

"Well, at least it's a _good_ spirit," the prince went on. "That horse that drowns people wasn't that nice. If it was real I'd be walking around with a silver pin on me all the time, so I could tame it."

The man made a derisive sound. "You would rather let yourself be drowned than jam a needle into a horse."

"I would not! Besides, it wouldn't be a _big_ needle," the young man claimed.

They rode back along the coast, having traveled in a wide circle, and now enjoyed a splendid sunset over the water. It wouldn't be long before they would see the city of Gotham in the distance. Robin wanted to ride even slower than they were.

He glanced at the man beside him. He knew he must annoy the king at times, and if he was truthful to himself, most of the jibes against the man, most of the claims that he was an indecent barbarian, were just for show. Just to… keep the distance. Make it clear to the king that there _was_ a barrier between them, that he wasn't forgiven. But when it was just the two of them, that barrier seemed to crumble. In fact, Robin had been a little annoyed that the man hadn't claimed more of his kisses today. He still owed the king two. Not that the young man wouldn't_ object _if the man wanted one, of _course_ he would… it wasn't proper _not_ to, was it? The king might think that he _wanted_ to be kissed, after all. Which he didn't. Did he? It would be another thing after the wedding, naturally, it would be _expected_ of him then, wouldn't it? Not in public, of course, but when they were wed, the man could pull him close at any time. Kiss, caress… do other things… The prince squirmed a little in the saddle.

"Getting sore?"

Robin jumped, even making Slayer startle a little. "What? No! No."

"The riding trousers are comfortable, aren't they? I'm sure your inner thighs won't feel chafed tonight."

The prince groaned inwardly. Did the man _have_ to say 'inner thighs' like that?! It sounded practically _lewd_. Especially as he could practically feel one of his calloused hands sliding up-

The two highwaymen stepping onto the road in front of them were almost a welcome distraction.

"Get off those horses, Blüdhaven scum!" One of them yelled, brandishing a long-shafted ax. Those other man held a spear which looked to be quite badly made, but that didn't mean it couldn't kill you.

"You are two men on foot, we are on horseback and are both armed," Slade snorted. "Step aside and we'll let you live."

"Yes, well… there ain't just two of us," the man with the ax leered and from all around them men suddenly appeared from behind bushes and rocks. Some had even hidden in the ditch. "Now get off those horses."

"Do you have_ any_ idea who you're-" Robin began.

"Shut your mouth, boy!" Slade snapped. "This is _not_ the time." He drew his sword and the prince, looking angry and embarrassed at being snapped at, still followed suit. "Hold on to the saddle very hard," the king told him. Robin had no idea what the man meant by that, but then he barked out a command. The prince didn't understand the word… but the horses did.

Robin gasped in surprise as Slayer threw himself toward the armed men and lashed out with his huge hoofs, only to spin half way around and kick out with his hind legs at the men closing in from that direction. Ore, Slade's horse, did the same, but his rider was also helping out with his sword. It took all he had for the prince to be able to even hold _on_, much less swing his blade.

The horses were almost transformed, as if they had suddenly turned into carnivores. Kicking, biting, trampling… Robin heard the sound of a skull being crushed and made sure not to look down. He knew from experience that most horses did their best not to trample humans, but these two were out to kill. And kill they did.

As the horse twisted around again Robin lost one of the stirrups and slid precariously to one side. His arm was grabbed and he was yanked upright gain. He gasped at the pain in his shoulder from the harsh tug, but found the support for his foot once more.

"I told you to hold on!" the king all but snarled at him. Robin merely nodded grimly, his teeth clenched because he realized that if he fell off now, he'd be trampled. He'd die, just like the men were dying around him.

Suddenly Slade barked out another guttural order and the horses both stilled. A few of the robbers had survived but none without injury, all of them serious enough so that the men couldn't get up and run. The horse's hoofs were bloody, as was the king's sword. Even Robin's was tinted in red, but he couldn't quite remember how it had come to be that way. It had all happened so quickly, and frankly he hoped he hadn't stabbed one of the horses, the king, or even himself…

"Come. We'll ride back at once and send out men for these scum," Slade ordered and, after making sure the prince had heard him, added, "you're not injured, are you?"

"No, is Slayer alright?" Robin asked, trying to look down the horse's sides.

"He's fine, nothing even touched him."

"Ore seems fine too," the prince nodded after studying the dark gray animal.

"Then come."

The king set off and this time it was not even close to a leisurely pace or a soft gallop. Slayer seemed to feel the urgency too, and Robin didn't think he would have been able to hold the steed back even if he had wanted to.

They took the quickest route back, right through the city. It was fully dark by now, but thankfully they kept to the main street leading directly to the castle, and that was one of the few that were properly lit with oil lanterns. Even so, Robin hoped people would hear them coming, because at this speed there was no chance of stopping in time and anyone in their way would be ridden down.

They reached the castle's gates without any problems, however, and yet again Robin got a front row seat to a show of the king's leadership skills. Within fifteen minutes ten soldiers left with instructions to deal with the survivors and the bodies. After questioning, the prince doubted there would _be_ any survivors left, considering the state of the men. He couldn't pity them, though, and he couldn't find it in himself to do more than watch as the orders were given, still on horseback. He could have sent out the men as well, of course, but right now he was glad that he didn't have to. He wasn't even annoyed that no one was turning to him for instructions; all eyes were on the king… as it should be. It wouldn't be any different if it had been Bruce… although if it had been only him and Bruce out there today, on their normal horses, Robin doubted that they would still be alive.

A hand was suddenly on his thigh.

"Let me help you down." The request was a thinly veiled order, but it was said softly. Robin sighed as he swung his leg over Slayer's back. The king's hands closing around his hips were completely unnecessary, but the prince wasn't going to tell him off. Not after a day like this.

After dismounting he caught a glimpse of the horse's hoofs, which weren't a pretty sight. Even though they, like most of the animal, were black, he could see how _wet_ they looked… and the roads had all been nice and dry today. There was also a tuft of blond hair stuck to one of the front hoofs… Robin turned away quickly, bile rising at the back of his throat. When he was younger he had sometimes wished to be a stable boy instead of a prince, but not today. He wouldn't want to be the one who had to clean the horses off…

Without anything being said the king escorted Robin back to his chambers and only there, in private behind closed doors, did the prince let some of his feelings show through a deep, ragged sigh.

"Are you all right?" The king's voice was soft, slightly worried.

"I'm… yes, I'm fine. It was quite the ending to our day, wasn't it?" the young man said wryly.

"It was. Not exactly what I had hoped for, though," the older man admitted.

"I would hope not!" Robin gave the man a little grin and then his eyes widened. "I had no idea they could do that! The horses, I mean!"

"They are not called 'war horses' for nothing." There was pride in the man's voice now and Robin liked that, because those animals surely deserved it.

"That command you shouted… do you think you could… teach me?" he asked.

"Of course. Once you have a horse of your own, you will need to know how to handle it, after all. They don't normally listen to anyone else but their own riders, though, but since Slayer is mine I hoped he would obey as well, and he did. He's a smart horse… I think he wanted to protect you."

"I can't wait… can't we just send Wintergreen to get my horses right now? Do you _really _need him here?" Robin's voice was joking, but there was no mistaking that the longing was real.

"Well, we won't have time for much training until everything has calmed down anyway," the king shrugged.

"I know."

"It's late, but I know you'll want a bath, maybe something to eat?" the king said next. When the boy nodded he pulled on the bell cord summoning the valet to the prince's rooms. "Have you had enough of me for one day or may I join you for the meal?"

The corner of Robin's lips twitched in amusement. "You may join me. But you should go clean up as well."

"I wouldn't mind bathing _with_ you, but I know what the answer will be," the man smirked. "I'll be back in an hour, then."

"One and a half."

"One and a half," the man agreed with a chuckle. He should have known just one wouldn't be enough by now…

* * *

He was back earlier, however, and was spreading creamy, rich butter on a piece of bread as the prince emerged from his bedroom with his valet in tow. Unusually enough, the boy wasn't fully dressed; he was merely wearing his nightshirt and a long robe by the looks of it, and was quite irresistible with his damp, slightly curly, hair. Even that was untied, hanging loose over his shoulders.

"When we are married I will hide all your hair ribbons," Slade suddenly heard himself say.

"Excuse me?"

"I just happen to find you absolutely mouth-watering with your hair down like that," he grinned.

"Yes, well, if you want to make an even bigger fool of me at court, then go ahead," the prince sniffed, but there was no edge to his voice and he even grinned back a little as he sat down at the table. "Alfred, you may leave for the night."

"Thank you, Sir. Sleep well."

"You too."

Once the valet had left, Slade spoke again. "I will also make sure that your valets will always be wizened old men. That, or I will dress and bathe you myself."

"Would you really be jealous of a _servant_?" Robin snorted, completely forgetting a certain kitchen maid. Slade hadn't, but was wise enough _not _to remind the prince of that episode.

"Is it so wrong to want to keep you all to myself?" he asked instead.

The prince snorted and muttered something inaudible as he reached for a piece of chicken.

Slade let him fill his plate before speaking again.

"I've heard back from the soldiers; those men won't bother anyone again."

"Good. Why would they attack people, though? Were they poor? Starving?"

"We have highwaymen in Blüdhaven too, ours are actually small clans… there will always be people who want to reap the benefits of others, and now they will try to take advantage of the uncertainty in the country, like those 'tax collectors'."

"Don't they understand that they are making things _worse_?" the prince growled.

"They don't care. Either they are too stupid or too self-centered. All we can do is strike back and make sure to send a message to others who might otherwise be inclined to follow in their footsteps."

"I guess." Robin took a big bite of his chicken and when he had swallowed he was obviously ready to change the subject. "It was a very nice day, though. I wish we hadn't had to come back."

"Why?" Slade asked curiously.

"Well… it's just…" the boy hesitated. "It's just easier when it's just you and me, you know?"

"It will get better, even here and in public," the man promised. "I'm almost afraid to ask… but do you still hate me?"

Robin didn't answer for a long time, he just looked at the man thoughtfully until the king could just barely hold back an overwhelming need to squirm in his seat.

"I think… I think perhaps that you didn't pretend as much with me as I first thought. I thought it was_ all _lies, everything about you, every word you said… that you were only pretending the whole time. I'm starting to think that it wasn't like that… which makes it… easier."

"Easier?"

"To be around you… to accept that I'm not going to get rid of you." Robin's mouth quirked a little.

"That sounds like a good start," the king had to admit.

"I'm not sure I'll be happy… I don't _want_ to marry you, I'm still hoping there's another way, but I no longer think you'll make me miserable… or that you want to hurt me," Robin mumbled.

"You are alive because I _didn't _want to hurt you," Slade pointed out. "You still don't really believe that my fascination with you was the only reason I kept you alive, do you? You still think I had an ulterior motive?"

"Well, it _is_ rather hard to trust you after all that!" Robin snorted. "But I know that me being alive is causing you trouble, so…"

"I wish you would say that with less glee in your voice," the man muttered as he wiped his hands and mouth on a napkin.

"Well it's the only proof I have," the boy snorted.

"Really? And here I was trying to give you plenty more…" the man half sighed, half chuckled.

Again the prince only muttered something in reply.

Slade decided that, all in all, the day had brought plenty of progress. He should end it now, on a somewhat good note. He wouldn't even demand a kiss from the prince, he'd refrained from it all day, not wanting to taint the frail friendship they were beginning to build up. He wished the boy a good night's sleep, asking to see him in the throne room after breakfast the next morning, and turned toward the door.

"You're not going to kiss me?"

The question was as unexpected as the tone was hard to decipher. Did he sound disappointed? Relieved? Demanding?

"Do you want me to?" The wrong question. Slade knew it the moment it was out of his mouth.

"Of course not." This time the words were predictable. Robin would never admit to something like that, he'd even see it as an insult.

"No, of course not. But you feel I've been neglecting my duties, perhaps? Or forgotten about our game?"

"I'm afraid you'll save your last kisses for public places again, that's all," the prince sniffed.

"So… in a way… it would make you happy if I kissed you now? Here, in private?"

"Damn you. Yes." the young man hadn't seen the trap before it was too late.

"Then you _do_ want me to kiss you?" Slade smirked.

The prince growled. He had had enough of being toyed with. It was no longer up to the man whether or not to kiss him, he felt, so he grabbed the king's shirt and pulled the man toward him.

"You have one left," Robin snapped as they separated almost a minute later.

"No, I have two."

"Didn't they teach you to count in the mountains?"

"They did, but _you _kissed _me_."

"But-"

"Fair is fair," the king grinned. "Goodnight, Robin," he added and walked out the door, leaving a frustrated young man behind. Frustrated in several ways, because that night the prince played with one of the candles…

* * *

Robin was, for lack of another word, _grumpy_ the next day. Even after a very nice and satisfying conclusion to the day, his night had been filled with nightmares and he had slept in very late this morning. In fact, it was close to lunch now, as he headed toward the throne room with his guards. No one had insisted that he had to rise any earlier, though, maybe thinking he needed his rest after the previous day's events.

It turned out the king wasn't in the throne room at all, he was socializing in the ball room at what seemed to be some kind of get-together Robin hadn't been told about. At least the prince was dressed for the occasion. After the linen and leather the day before, he had decided to wear some very nice clothes today. The lace around his cuffs was so fine it could have been made by spiders, and his dark green silk waistcoat glimmered with gold embroidery. His jacket was a lighter green with gold trim. Green was his favorite color after red, and he also enjoyed the gold. If he could get away with it, he would wear all three colors at once, but that might be a bit too loud, even for the Gotham court. An accent or two was alright, though, and his waistcoat had one or two flowers picked out in red silk thread, blossoming on golden vines.

All in all, Robin thought he looked very good, but then he entered the room and barely en eye was drawn to him. Instead everyone was focused on the king and the guests he was presently entertaining. He was speaking to a beautiful blond man and, by the looks of it, having the time of his life. The blond was smiling adoringly at the king, green eyes glittering, hands gesturing enthusiastically as he spoke. As Robin approached, the king placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder in a very intimate gesture. How _dare_ he? Didn't he understand how it would look?! He had said it himself; people needed to believe their devotion to each other was real, how were they going to do that if he stood here_ flirting _with someone else?

"Am I interrupting something?" the prince asked coldly as he reached his betrothed.

"Ah, finally awake, are you?" the man smiled teasingly.

"I see I haven't been missed. Should I go?"

"No, you should stay, and meet my son, Joseph," the king said proudly and squeezed the blond man's shoulder.

"Y-Your son?" Robin gaped. The blond, he now discovered, has some of Slade in him, but he must be taking after his mother quite a bit with those eyes and more slender body. He wasn't thin and willowy by any means, but compared to the king's more stocky build he appeared slimmer than he actually was. Robin realized that he himself must look like a twig in comparison. After finding his footing again he put on a polite smile and reached out with his hand. "Your Highness, pleased to meet you."

"Am I expected to shake it or kiss it?" the blond grinned, but then took the hand in a firm hold. "Prince Robin. I'm looking forward to getting to know you."

It sounded almost like a threat and the Gotham prince suddenly realized the king's side of the family might provide him with some _more _enemies. He almost wanted to give up then and there; he didn't _want_ more drama in his life, it was quite enough as it was.

"Why don't you start right now, I have some proceedings I need to see to," the king let them know.

_Don't leave me!_ was Robin's initial thought, but of course that was nothing he could say out loud.

"I'll take good care of your bride, father," the blond grinned.

"Now be good, Joey, he is a young man, not a woman," the mountain prince was reprimanded, to Robin's relief.

"But he has such pretty clothes!" Joseph then exclaimed and snickered.

Robin frowned. He did_ not_ like this man. "I'm dressed according to our fashion, as you are after yours," he replied dryly.

"Well said, Robin," Slade told him, looking surprised. Maybe he had expected a somewhat more… violent reaction, but they _were_ in public, after all. "Why don't you show Joey around? Just take the guards."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the prince nodded. He would do his duty as a host, after all.

"So when did you arrive, Your Highness?" Robin asked politely as they walked through one of the many galleries depicting Gotham's history. This was the route he normally took when he had to entertain foreign guests, as the art was exquisite and the architecture was equally impressive. It was not open for anyone who wasn't a guest of the castle, though, so they were less likely to be overheard.

"Late last night… and call me Joey, we are to be family, after all."

"But we're not family _yet_, Sir." Maybe it was small of him, but Robin wasn't ready to go from being made fun of to 'let's be friends'_ quite_ so quickly. "How was your trip?"

"Ah, so we're having _that _kind of conversation, are we, _Your Highness_?" the blond snorted. "My journey was quite uneventful and swift, thank you."

The dark haired prince glanced at his equal from the corner of his eye. Was the man trying to be funny, and if so, to what purpose? He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now, and sighed.

"This must seem very… strange to you?" he said, abstaining from any titles for now.

"To get a new mother, younger than me, and a boy to boot? Yes, somewhat."

"It wasn't exactly _my_ idea."

"So I've been told. I've also been told you will be practically stripped of any power."

"In favor of you, yes." Robin hoped he didn't sound bitter.

"That's something _I_ didn't ask for, just so we're clear. I understand the reasoning behind it, however… Father secured this country for us, for his future grandchildren… you were just… something extra."

"Yes, it's nice to have your life reduced to an_ inconvenience_," Robin muttered, and bitterness was _certainly_ present this time.

"Our fates can be cruel," the blond nodded, but then hurriedly switched subjects. "Father tells me you are a great rider, would you show me your horses? I've had enough of staring faces for now."

Robin almost looked around, expecting a crowd, before he realized that the prince meant the paintings. He agreed to the request, but reluctantly. Normally he would have jumped at the chance, but what were _his_ horses compared to the ones Joseph had grown up with? Robin felt terribly guilty for that thought, because he knew that he had completely neglected his animals in favor of Slayer. They were still well cared for by the grooms, of course, but he had barely spared them a thought lately.

* * *

"What a beauty! This is a wild one, isn't he?" Joseph asked.

"Yes, Dax can be a bit of a handful," Robin smiled. The other young man's enthusiasm, whether it was real or merely polite, had warmed him up a little bit and awakened his one pride in his steeds. "This one is Rain, we're hoping she's carrying Slayer's foal."

"Slayer? Oh, Father's black one?"

Robin looked at the other man like he was crazy. How couldn't he _instantly_ know who Slayer was, and even worse; how could he sound so dismissive when speaking of him? Joseph seemed to interpret the prince's look correctly and chuckled.

"Ore is my favorite when it comes to father's horses, Slayer barely lets anyone else ride him."

"He doesn't?"

"No. Father says he's a big softie but I've seen him throw his grooms at least thirty times. Father always claims that they just aren't good enough riders so Slayer doesn't have any respect for them, but _I'm_ not getting up on that horse and neither should you."

"But… I've ridden him since the first time I saw him! And that time it was bareback!"

It was Joseph's turn to stare. "I'll be damned… like owner like horse, I guess…"

"What do you mean?" Robin blinked.

"That- oh, nothing… maybe he has calmed down a bit by now… it's been a while since I've seen him in action."

Robin suspected that that wasn't what the young man had really meant, but he didn't want to press the matter. Knowing the prince's father it would probably be something lewd.

* * *

Slade watched his son and intended leave together and prayed to a higher power that they would find some common ground, if not become friends. There wasn't many years separating them, Robin was soon eighteen and Joseph was twenty. They should find things to talk about, even with the cultural differences. He had suggested to Joey that going to the stables might be a good idea, knowing he wouldn't mind. His son liked animals and Slade hoped that Robin's enthusiasm for them would bring out the prince's… less uptight side.

"Your Majesty, about the complaints from the southern landowners…?"

The king took notice of his surroundings and his valet once more.

"Yes, let's go hear those, shall we?" he nodded, hoping for the best.

* * *

After leaving the stables Robin took the blond back to the ballroom and introduced him to some of the guests there, particularly the DiMaggio women. It was partly out of spite –he had a feeling it would annoy Slade to have his son in their hands- but also because he hoped that the young man would find someone_ else_ to talk to. The king couldn't possibly have meant that they should spend the whole day together, could he?

Unfortunately the northern prince dealt with the ladies perfectly; being polite but aloof. He also excused himself from the group quickly to 'spend time with his new family'. At least he had the good taste not to jokingly call Robin 'mother'. Someone else in the room might not have, though, and Robin watched with dread as young Lord Blackgate and his following sailed up to them.

"My name is Lord Bryant Blackgate, the eldest son of _Duke_ Blackgate, you have heard of us, I'm sure."

"Yes?" the blond man's voice was somewhat reserved, which seemed to make the Lord a bit rattled. Still, he recovered quickly and gave Joseph the fakest smile Robin had ever seen.

"Well, I would like the honor of introducing you to some very influential people."

"Prince Robin already has that 'honor'," Joey snorted.

"Yes, and I was just taking you to meet some of my _friends_," Robin smirked. "If you would excuse us, Bryant?"

"No offence," the Lord answered, refusing to step aside. "Prince Robin will soon be prince in _name_ only. He'll practically be a _woman_. _Literally_, even. He will have no real influence here, as it should be… females should know their place, after all, even queens."

"My mother was a queen, you know," the blond said silkily.

"Well… yes… yes, of course, and I'm sure she had her duties, but-" Bryant began.

"She led the attack of the Iron Clan at Avalon Hill and she then negotiated a treaty with them which has been honored to this day. For her funeral they sent a thousand emeralds to adorn her casket. She killed more men than you ever_ dueled_, and she was loved by more people than you'll ever meet. Robin won't be a queen, but he will rule with my father and the King wouldn't have chosen him if he wasn't worthy. You, traitor's son, would have done well to stay on his good side. And mine."

Robin had to try very hard not to gape like Blackgate and his crowd. The blond then turned to him.

"Shall we go see your friends now? I'm looking forward to meeting them, and I'm sure they will be very helpful to me when I rule this place."

"Yes, of course," Robin said, forcing himself not to stutter.

As they were out of earshot he leaned in close to the man and whispered.

"I don't think your father has had time to inform you… but we are not _supposed_ to aggravate the Blackgates… at least not yet."

"Oh, I know," the prince shrugged.

"You… you _do_?"

"Yes, and I had every intention to be civil… but then he opened his mouth."

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: And now you got to meet Joseph… he might be a little different from what you might expect, a bit "rougher around the edges", maybe… oh, and he can TALK… ;) remember that this is an AU, though, so it might not be that surprising, hm? ;) He's 'softer' (I don't like that word, but I hope you know what I mean… not WEAKER) than Grant and Slade, though, but that will be described further later, I should think…


	29. If Two Men Ride a Horse

A/N: thank you to **Baruga** for being my beta this time. She should be known as "Super Speed Beta" because she's damn quick… ;)

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 29: If Two Men Ride a Horse, One Must Ride Behind**

Against his will, Robin warmed up to the blond northern prince. Him acting as he had toward Bryant helped, and in return Robin did his very best to introduce him around to important people in the castle, showing him his full support as future leader of the province. Joseph noticed his efforts and thanked him when they found themselves alone in the king's private suite. Joseph had been temporarily given one of the bedrooms there, while his own quarters were being prepared. With every servant desperately busy with the wedding preparations and housing all the other guests, however, the king had told them that his son's rooms weren't a priority − just as long as he had moved out in time for the wedding, of course.

"You did me a great service today, Prince Robin," Joseph said as he poured tea for the younger man. "I need as many people on my side as possible… _and_ I need to know who _not _to trust as well."

"I know. I'll do what I can," the black-haired youth nodded.

"I have to say I'm surprised. The engagement means that you'll lose your birthright, after all… you are taking it very well."

Robin swallowed some of his tea wrong and coughed. Once he could breathe again he chuckled dryly. "You should have seen me a little over a week ago."

"You gave my father hell, I hope?" Joey grinned over the brim of his cup.

"I'd like to think I did, yes," Robin smirked back, but then turned serious again. "I might not like it, but it's better than sharing the crypt with the late king, I suppose."

"I would say it is, yes… and Robin, don't for a moment assume that you will be powerless. I dare say you'll have as much as you want. Just keep a level head and my father will gladly keep you involved in the official business."

"Yes, well… I've been having a bit of trouble holding my tongue… _and_ my temper… but it's gotten better, I guess. As long as your father isn't a stubborn, inconsiderate _brute_…"

"You'll have an interesting marriage, I can tell," the blond said airily. "So, looking forward to the ball tomorrow night?"

Robin made a face. The news of the feast had reached them just an hour ago. "My adoptive father was never much for balls, he only threw as many as he was more or less _required_ to do, some years as few as four; one each season. I've only attended since I turned sixteen, but I haven't had much fun…"

"Pfft, I bet we'll both have blast. And I won't make a complete fool of myself because I've already heard that at least _some_ of the dances are the same as back home."

"You dance?" Robin blinked. He hadn't really expected the Blüdhaven people to engage in something as refined as some of the royal court dances practiced in Gotham could be.

"I dance like a god. My father isn't bad either."

"SLA- I mean-_ the king dances_?" There was a plate of baked treats on the table and Robin had been about to pop one into his mouth. Now he was glad that he hadn't, because he would have choked to death on it.

"Of course. My mother and father had a very social court life."

"But… she passed away quite a long time ago, didn't she?"

"Yes, I was only one. I shouldn't even _remember_ her, but in a way I do… it's like I remember a… warmth."

"He loved her very much," Robin said softly.

"I know," the blond smiled. "She was quite a remarkable woman. Most widowers remarry quite quickly, _especially_ if they have children, but she was just… irreplaceable, I guess."

"I guess," Robin nodded. He felt a stab of… _something_… in his heart. He didn't like being reminded of the woman for some reason.

"But now there's you."

Robin looked up, startled, at the blond. "What? No. No, It's not like- He just _had_ to, to save my life, because− He doesn't love me."

"I know better than to presume what my father thinks and feels…" Joseph said slowly, taking a bite out of a piece of apple cake. "And so should you," he added with a smirk. "But you're right, he doesn't love you."

Even though the idea that the king _did_ was laughable, the comment was still a blow.

"He… said so?" Robin schooled his face into an mask of indifference as he spoke.

"No, but he won't let himself take that plunge again… not unless he's sure you feel the same way… or at least are inclined to _try_."

"That seems rather cowardly," Robin sniffed. "Denying your feelings like that."

"Well, if it was merely about _denying your feelings_, I'd agree," the blond said in a peculiarly pointed way. "Real men shouldn't. But… I'm not sure how to explain this… have you seen father fight? Yes, of course you have, the attack-"

"I've fought him too. He's been teaching me some of your… techniques," Robin cut in.

"Lucky you, he's the best instructor I've ever had. But as I said, when he's_ really_ focused on something, really… _passionate_… it overshadows everything else. Right now he can't really _afford_ to love you, he needs to pour all that energy into holding this country, but even if it wasn't for that… I'm not sure he should open up to you in that way, because if he loves you, Robin, you will be the center of his world… and he deserves someone who sees him in the same way. I think he knows that, and so… he won't love you."

"Oh."

"That doesn't mean you can't be happy," the northern prince hurried to add. "I've been told plenty of stories about my parent's marriage and _that_ much passion, from both of them, created great storms as well… though I think they broke more beds than doors."

Robin felt himself turn a bit pale. What did you need to do to _break _a bed? Slade had never been that rough with him before, would that change? What_ exactly_ was he in for?

"Robin? Your Highness?"

"Huh?"

"You seemed to be caught up in your own thoughts there for a while."

"Yes… yes, I'm sorry. Maybe I should head back to my rooms now, before dinner."

"Ah, I wish I could let you," the blond prince sighed as he stood up. "But I can't. Not quite yet," he added and drew his sword.

Robin got on his feet in a flash, shock and betrayal his initial feelings, long before fear.

"What are you-?"

"Draw your sword, little prince, I'm challenging you to a brother-fight."

"A… a what?" Robin got his sword out in a flash, because even though the blond was smiling, he didn't seem to be exactly_ joking_.

"Well, it should be between the groom and his future brother-in-law, really, but Grant and I decided that during these circumstances…"

"You '_decided_'!?" Robin spluttered. "You decided to _attack_ me?!" The princes were now circling the room. "We don't even have training swords!"

"Training swords? What for? Besides, it's the one who draws first blood who wins."

"What?!"

"It's just a test. We can't let father marry a little prissy Gotham noble without seeing if he's worthy, now can we?"

"What's going on here?"

Robin had never been so happy to see the king. "Your crazy son is trying to kill me!"

"It's a brother-fight, father," Joseph explained, not even lowering the blade.

"Ah, I see. I'll be in my study then. No more than a scratch now. And not the face."

"You're leaving?! You're not going to_ stop_ this?" Robin spluttered.

"You'll do well," the man shrugged and then the door closed behind him.

Robin first just stared at the door but as he spotted a movement out of the corner of his eye he spun around and parried the sneak swing the blond had aimed at him.

"This is idiotic!" the Gotham noble insisted as he kept parrying strike after strike.

"I must make sure you are worthy of his hand, after all," Joseph chuckled.

"He can_ keep_ his damn hand!" Robin snarled. He was beginning to get angry. How dared that mountain whelp come here and more or less claim that he, Robin, wasn't _good _enough? That was an insult on its own, and not good enough for someone like _Deathstroke_? He'd have a thing or two to say about that!

With sharp weapons in a furnished room they were both careful, though. It was too easy to trip and get hurt, or hurt the other one unintentionally. The blond had made a serious mistake, however, because like his father he wielded a long-sword, and the space was really too cramped for it. Robin's broadsword was much better in a situation like this, and the prince knew to take advantage of it.

The most important advantage Robin had, though, was the fact that Joseph simply didn't know how good he was with a sword. Robin, on the other hand, knew what to expect from the _blond_ as they both had trained with the king. It was clear to him that the other young man was convinced that he couldn't really fight at all, and the dark-haired prince let him believe that for as long as possible… and then he attacked.

"Whoa!" The sound Joey made as he quickly fell back made Robin grin, and something awoken in him… bloodlust, perhaps, or at least a very strong urge to _win_. Even though the blond was more on his guard now, he just wasn't quick enough and soon after he hissed as Robin's blade slipped through his defenses and nicked his upper arm. At the sight of blood, however, the younger prince paled and drew back.

"I'm sorry!" he spluttered.

"Well, my father didn't teach you to say _that_, that much I know," the blond snorted. "Good fight," he added and offered Robin his hand, which the younger man took. "I shall have to write my brother tonight and let him know that you passed."

"I heard a yell, are you done?" the king asked from the door to his study.

"No one_ yelled_, father, you must have listened at the door. Were you afraid for your betrothed's health?"

"Not for _his_, for _yours_. And I see I was right to be. Go get that bandaged… and I hope you are done playing."

"It_ is_ tradition, father!" the blond objected, looking hurt. Robin, on the other hand, couldn't believe his ears. Had the king taken_ his_ side? The fact that the man thought he would even stand a chance against his own son, much less _win_, made the prince want to preen.

"You and your brother cooked this up to have a little fun at Robin's expense, that was all this was about… I hoped you learned your lesson." The king's voice held the warmth of a loving father, and the mirth of one who knew his children's pranks well by now. There was a tiny amount of sternness in it too though, which told both of the young men that more of this sort of behavior wouldn't be tolerated anymore.

"Yes, well… now you can get married, at least…" the blond defended himself.

"I'm ecstatic," Robin muttered.

"You should go get ready for dinner. It's an official one tonight, so be on your best behavior, both of you."

The young men gave each other a look and rolled their eyes.

"I saw that," the king let them know dryly.

* * *

The dinner was splendid, of course. Robin had Joseph on one side and the king on his other. The blond was quite busy conversing with the lady he had been seated next to, leaving Robin to converse with his future husband, but it didn't prove as difficult as it once had.

"With all this feasting, and with summer a while away yet, I fear we'll run out of food," he murmured to the man.

"Joseph brought quite large quantities of gems and gold with him, we can afford to import a lot; in fact, we're already are. And the local farmers are getting paid four times the normal rate for their produce… I think there are quite a few hens in the country that are getting yelled at to start laying more eggs as we speak," the man added in a low chuckle.

"As long as the people won't suffer," the prince said. "It wouldn't look good if we feasted while they starved."

Slade didn't want to point out that that particular situation was quite common, but he knew what the prince meant: festivities like the engagement and wedding were official events, the splendor was talked about throughout the societal hierarchy, after all, and the king wanted the man on the street to have a reason to celebrate as well. There were already ongoing preparations to ensure that the city would see some of the festivities too. About two-hundred oxen had been bought and would be roasting on different places across the city on the evening of the wedding. That wouldn't be enough to feed even a small part of the city, of course, but it was a gesture which would be framed by hired street entertainers, music, and fireworks. The inns and taverns around the festivity areas had been given a sum each to serve drink and food cheaper than they normally would, and although Slade didn't doubt that the wine would be watered down and the meat in the stews very cheap indeed, he had done it to create as much goodwill as possible amongst the city dwellers. Hopefully word would spread throughout the rest of the country as well.

He told Robin about these plans, as the boy hadn't been involved in them before, and the prince seemed pleased. Actually, he smiled quite a bit more nowadays, even at Slade, though it didn't take much for his walls to rise even now. Tonight they seemed quite low, however.

"If you have many jewels," the prince said next, "may I have a few?"

"Of course, but if there's something you want to buy…?"

"No, no, that's not what need them for… I just have an idea… I'll tell you if it works out, all right?"

"Robin…" Slade said warningly.

"I'm _not_ buying soldiers to overthrow you," the prince half sighed half chuckled. "This is something that will_ help_ you, and maybe especially Joseph. I promise."

"Very well, then… how much do you want?"

"At least a small pouch full… and as big and impressive as you have… but I can't promise that you'll get every single one back."

"You don't have to give _any_ back, they will be yours to do as you please with. I'll have Bobbins deliver it to you tomorrow morning."

"Thank you." The prince gave him one of those rare, warms smiles, and Slade returned it. He had no idea what the boy wanted the stones for, but he guessed he just had to start trusting him in return. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't regret it.

* * *

The next day, armed with the precious gems, Robin shared his plan with Joseph and then went to the ballroom to look for victims. The blond prince followed after a little while, but kept busy conversing with a group of mixed Blüdhaven and Gotham nobles. Joseph had not arrived alone at the castle; he had quite a big following, so the lace and silk was now diluted a bit by leather, linen and wool. Robin couldn't help but notice that one or two of his _own_ inner circle had suddenly felt inclined to dress a bit like the foreigners as well… it seemed fashion was changing…

He soon spotted his target: Bryant's circle of friends. Like a wolf Robin closed in on one who was away from the group, which happened to be the son of Sebastian Hady, the man the Duke had met up on the roof.

"Alec, what a nice morning we're having. Are you looking forward to the ball tonight?"

Alec Hady blinked, and Robin knew why; he had barely spoken to him before now. The reason that Bryant had been able to build a following at all was actually the prince's fault, he knew; lesser lords tended to flock to the one who gave them even the slightest bit of attention.

"Y-your Highness… yes, yes I am, very much so."

"Good to hear… a welcome feast for Joseph. Have you heard of all the things he brought from Blüdhaven?"

"No, I'm sorry My Lord, what things?"

"Well, look at this," Robin said and withdrew the pouch of gems, poring some of them into the palm of his hand. "Aren't they beautiful?" It was an wide arrange of stones, all cut beautifully and none smaller than a baby's tooth. Robin heard the intake of breath. What he was holding could buy a large estate, maybe even a title if you didn't already have one.

"Ah, there you are, Robin. Father wanted to know if-" Joseph suddenly cut in, as planned. The blond looked at the gems and snorted.

"You really liked those little ones, didn't you?"

"Yes... I'm thinking of giving some to my friends," Robin nodded. "Riley, River and Gordon have all stood by me, after all."

"They should be rewarded, then. In fact, once I become chancellor here, I'll make sure to remember who my friends are… and my enemies as well… Like that rat Blackgate. He'll be demoted to kitchen servant my first week in power, and whoever is still following him by then can join him."

"Um… oh, this is a bit embarrassing," Robin began, trying hard not to grin. "But Hady here is-"

"Is your loyal friend!" the young man cut in hurriedly. "True, I've been close to Bryant in the past, but lately I've been appalled by his words and dishonorable sense of loyalty!"

"Well, well… and maybe others feel the same?" Robin said silkily.

"Yes, Your Highness, I am sure they do! I shall have a word with them!"

"I like the sound of that," Joseph leered. "Robin, give the clever boy a ruby."

* * *

They spent the whole morning mingling, and throughout that time several members of Bryant's circle approached them, as by accident, and courteously conversed about a number of different, irrelevant topics, most making sure to assure them both of their support. Robin carelessly parted with a few more gems, for a number of silly reasons like "Oh, this one matches your jacket" and "Aren't your fiancé's eyes blue like this stone? You could make it into a necklace for her!" He parted with the precious things like they were common pebbles, and Joseph helped feed that illusion. The whole time they avoided Bryant, and the young lord seemed to do the same. It wasn't an open confrontation they were aiming for; it was all about undermining him. Robin knew the young men would speak to their fathers, who would speak to their friends... maybe it wasn't enough to completely tear down the support the Blackgates most likely had gathered by now, but it was a start. Slade had promised wealth, and this was the first tangible proof of it.

"Well, that was a bit expensive, I think I'll have soup for lunch," Joseph chuckled as they were escorted to the king's chambers for a meal in private.

"Well, that leaves water and bread for me, then," Robin sighed jokingly. The two of them had become close quite quickly, and even though the Gotham prince was still a bit wary about whether or not some crazy Blüdhaven tradition would suddenly make the blond attack him again, he _liked_ the other young man. He knew that nothing of what he had went through with Slade had been the other prince's fault, so being angry at _him_ was not only pointless but also unfair. Robin was glad that the prince hadn't joined them until now, though, because he wasn't sure he would have been able to think this clearly two weeks ago…

On the way to the king's rooms, they walked through the main hallway, where Robin suddenly stopped dead and stared at a wall hanging which was part of the decorations being put up for the wedding.

"What is it- oh," Joseph said and then started giggling. "Well you look cute!"

The canvas held a huge painting of the king and prince in what the artist had predicted to be their wedding clothes. It was a relatively simple painting, a joyful celebration in bright colors more than an actual portrait, but Robin couldn't stop staring.

"He's holding my hand like I'm a woman!" he hissed.

"Well, isn't that how wedded couples usually are portrayed?" Joseph tried to console him. "I've seen plenty of painting here where-"

"Yes, but I'm not a _woman_!" Robin growled. He didn't want to cause a scene, though, so he kept his voice down.

"No, but this is new here… I'm sure many officials have cried themselves to sleep at night trying to figure out how to do this according to Gotham traditions… If one of them would have the power they would have _turned _you into a woman by now just so you would fit the mold."

"Are you saying I should let them get away with this?"

"Yes. Besides, it's too late. Engravings of this picture has probably spread far and wide already."

"Great."

"I'm sure there's commemorative pottery with it by now."

"Yes, thank you, you're_ really_ not helping," Robin muttered.

"At least you're not wearing a dress… but that jacket is a bit long and flared so maybe they tried for that look."

"Let's leave. Now. Besides, I'm not that short either!"

* * *

"Are you_ insane_? Of _course_ I won't dance with you!" Robin told his husband-to-be sternly. The ball was well on its way and the king had just suggested that they should, perhaps, dance at least one dance together. The problem was that a man and woman dancing together as a couple was out of the question at the prude Gotham court. The dances here were old group dances with at least two couples in each group or, more commonly, two lines of dancers, with women on one side and men on the other. All the touching involved were mostly the hands meeting, and, for some turns, the man would put his hand on the woman's hip, waist or back. This was seen as_ very_ risqué, but with plenty of witnesses around it was accepted during these kinds of circumstances. Robin's problem with dancing with the king was an obvious one, and as the man didn't seem to catch on, the prince felt he needed to explain.

"You would put me on the side of the women! I would have to dance with other men!" That was true, as the pairs took turns, moving in chain-like patterns. The dance started and ended with the original couples, however, if everyone had made the right turn. "Unless…" Robin added, "_you _stand on their side…?"

"I see your point. Come along then, it's about to start."

"But I already told you! I won't-"

"I'll stand with the women. I want to dance with you and it's going to be awkward for one of us either way."

"You… will?"

And he did. It caused quite a bit of confusion, but as Slade laughed about it, like it was a joke, others joined in. Robin noticed that, for the first time ever, Lord Galante and Lord Maroni danced together just a little later… and they looked extraordinarily happy. He himself tried to hide his embarrassment and take solace in the fact that the steps for the men and women were often the same. He found himself forced to switch places with the king for the next dance, to show goodwill, and soon the novelty of having two men dance together seemed to wear off slightly. Less people stared and whispered, leaving the prince to actually enjoy himself a bit.

They couldn't just dance with each other, however, as they were the hosts, so Robin soon found himself with Eleanor as a partner, after having danced with her mother and older sisters first.

"Prince Robin, may I give you a word of warning?" the young woman whispered to him right after the song ended.

"Yes?" the young man said, having tensed up. What now? What dark conspiracies had the girl overheard?

"I'm afraid Claudia has fallen quite hard for Prince Joseph… and I also fear it's mainly for his title… although…"

"Although?"

"Well…" She blushed and looked across the room at the blond prince. "He's… he's _very _handsome isn't he? And he has such kind eyes and soft voice!"

"Maybe your sister isn't the _only_ one who has fallen for him?" Robin grinned.

"Now you are just going to think I warned you because I'm jealous!" the young woman exclaimed.

"No, no, I believe you. I've gotten to know Claudia a bit by now. I mean, she's not a bad person, but…"

"I know… but she's very beautiful… maybe just… warn him? I wish I could say that she would never do anything _desperate_ but I'm not sure."

Robin nodded. "I'll speak to him. Now come, I'll introduce you, and I'm sure he'll dance with you!"

The girl protested quietly all the way over, but Robin ignored her with a smile and then, as expected, the blond asked her to dance.

"May I have this dance, Your Highness?"

Robin turned around in surprise at the sound of a man's voice. It turned out to be a representative for Metropolis whose name escaped the prince at the moment. He knew he was important, though, as Metropolis was one of their biggest allies.

"I… I'm not sure I understand?" Robin stammered.

"As you danced with your fiancée, I assumed…?" the man smiled, almost leered. There was a difference between merely dancing with other men in a group though, and to actually _partner _with one, Robin thought. However, the man had asked and was powerful enough not to be taken lightly… he simply couldn't refuse.

"Of course. Shall we?" he nodded.

Robin found himself on the female side again, but pretended like nothing was amiss. The man was the King's age, maybe somewhat younger even, but it seemed like every year showed so much more. He was slightly portly and his skin was sagging. He had probably been very handsome once, but the only way Robin suspected that was because he still _acted_ like he was. The prince tried to, politely, excuse himself at the end of the dance, but was snared in by conversation mostly consisting of flattery.

"I always thought you were an extraordinarily beautiful boy, Your Highness," the man all but whispered to him. "If you don't mind be saying so, I almost wished it had been _our_ great countries in this situation…"

Robin felt revolted at the idea of that man in Slade's place. It wasn't just his looks but his whole demeanor, which reminded the prince of something slimy living in an overgrown pond.

He didn't know how to respond and not even how to get away as the man had taken his arm, but someone had apparently decided to come to the rescue.

"Lord Sackett, may I steal my fiancée from you for a moment?" the king asked as he appeared beside them like Robin's guardian angel.

"Of course, of course…" the Metropolitan emissary said, but you could hear disappointment in his voice.

The prince was so grateful to be rescued that he actually grabbed Slade's arm instead and held on, not wanting to be dragged away by anyone else.

"Thank you," he mumbled when the other man was out of earshot.

"My pleasure. I don't want you dancing with other men."

"I couldn't _decline_, could I?! I _wouldn't _have gotten in this situation unless you had started it!"

"The way he looked at you…" the king growled like he hadn't heard him.

"That's not all… he said something that makes me think that…" Robin shivered, "that makes me think that he's been…_ looking_ at me… for years! Since I was little!"

"I don't have to tell you to stay away from him, then?"

"No, that's an order I'm _very _willing to obey," Robin grinned.

* * *

The wine had been flowing all night, and the Gotham nobility had also been introduced to some Blüdhaven ale, with mixed results. Robin had tried a glass or two of it himself, and it was quite strong.

By the time Slade decided it was time to retire, the prince was leaning quite heavily on his arm. As they reached the prince's quarters Slade sat the young man down in an armchair and called Alfred to the room. By the time he turned around again, the young man was asleep.

Chuckling, Slade lifted him up, marveling at how light he felt in his arms. It wasn't like the boy was skin and bones, after all; he had a surprising amount of muscle tone on him for living a rather laid back life, but still he weighed almost nothing to Slade.

_Like a real bird… _the man thought as he placed the boy gently down on the bed and then stood looking at him for a while. The prince's cheeks were a bit rosy from the alcohol, and he had a small, almost teasing smile on those pink, slightly plump lips. They looked very kissable right about now…

"Your Majesty?" the tone was so disapproving that Slade subconsciously straightened his back as he turned to the valet who had just entered. "What are you doing in His Highness's bedchamber?"

"He fell asleep. I thought I'd better carry him to bed… didn't want to leave you the trouble. He had a bit much to drink. Do you need any more help? Getting his jacket off, perha-"

"I'm sure I can handle it," the valet said in a voice that clearly told the king to leave.

The man snorted and did so. Damn Gotham customs… did the old man really think Slade was going to bed the prince while he slept? He had a _bit_ better control than that… though he was grateful that the wedding was only just over a week away…

* * *

It was just after lunch the next day and Robin had not been awake for long. On the other hand, most of the castle seemed to be sleeping still, because he had not seen anyone apart from servants on his way to the king's rooms where he now was, slouching in a chair, nibbling on a cracker from a large lunch tray. Opposite him sat Joseph in the same way, probably nursing the same kind of headache as well.

"I have to admit that the Gotham nobility knows how to throw a good ball," the blond yawned.

"Didn't you feel there was a lack of fighting and throwing up?" Robin smirked.

"Well, it couldn't have_ hurt_…" The other young man smirked back.

"Oh, I meant to ask, what did you think of Eleanor?"

"Who?"

"Eleanor DiMaggio. Red hair? You danced with her…?"

"Oh, the one with the big, amazing-" Joseph made a gesture in front of his chest which couldn't be misunderstood.

"No! That was her sister Claudia. Eleanor was the one I introduced you to."

"Ah, the plain one?"

"Plain?! She's gorgeous!" Robin felt personally insulted on the young woman's behalf, even though he had made the exact same observations when he had first met her.

"My father is sitting right here," the blond said and gestured to the chair next to them where, indeed, Slade sat reading through a stack of letters. "Maybe you shouldn't proclaim your love for another in front of your betrothed?"

"I was just going to say the same thing," the king muttered and gave Robin a pointed look.

"I don't love her! She's just so much nicer than her airhead sisters! Do you _want _Claudia as a daughter-in-law?"

"Not particularly, no," Slade answered and the look was now transferred to his son.

"We just danced!" the young man defended himself.

"Keep it that way," his father ordered.

"Eleanor warned against Claudia… she might become… pushy…" Robin told them.

"Wouldn't surprise me one bit," the king snorted.

"Although…" the Gotham prince continued. "One of the DiMaggio girls were considered a good match for me, so maybe Eleanor and Joseph-"

"I didn't come here to get married!" Joseph objected again.

"It's just that there are no unattached royalty at a suitable age in any of our neighboring countries," Robin continued. He liked the idea of Joseph and Eleanor together. The girl had a wild streak that would fit well with the northerner's traditions, he thought. "The DiMaggio's aren't royal blood but they are among the most powerful families in Steel with ties to the Emperor. I doubt there is a better match if we want to secure the peace between our countries… Metropolis is very powerful too, true, but the Royal family only has two children, the crown prince and his little brother. I think he's four. That's a long wait."

"I'm going to get married to a woman!" Joseph snorted.

"Funny…" Robin said airily. "So was I…"

"Make him stop talking match-making nonsense!" the blond begged his father.

"Hmmm…" was all the king said.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: Lord Sackett was named after one of Metropolis's canon mayors: "Buck" Sackett.

I had a bit of a problem with coming up with a suitable term for the dances… the real term is "English Country dances" which belong to "folk dances", but as my beta **Baruga** pointed out, that didn't sound very refined… ;) so thank you to **Higashisaru** for coming up with "royal court dances" instead. Now go watch some Jane Austen if you are confused. ;)


	30. A Horse is Worth More Than Riches

A/N: thank you **Aikino** for being my beta this week!

This week's title is a Spanish proverb.

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 30: A Horse is Worth More Than Riches**

Robin looked at himself in the mirror. He was in a small chamber close to the throne room and in only a few minutes the engagement ceremony would start. He couldn't believe how fast time had passed, and now there was only a week left until… he shook that thought out of his head. A week was a long time, surely? He didn't have to think about it yet.

Yesterday had been very hectic with last minutes preparations like fittings, making sure his engagement gift for the king was prepared in a presentable form and also dealing with three certain young lords, who all were nervous about giving speeches as witnesses. Robin would be in the public eye the _whole_ time, however, and knew that every look and every gesture would be analyzed.

The king had made him read and approve the final contract too, which had_ not_ put the prince in a better mood. He couldn't_ believe_ he would sign that thing today, much less that it would be read aloud for everyone to hear. At least the magistrate in charge had worded it so the part where it was stated that Slade had… well, full _rights _to him, wasn't too obvious. Still, he knew people would pick up on it and know what it meant.

He straightened his back. He would _not_ look ashamed. That would only feed the vultures. He would act like this was what he wanted and that was that. Brushing some invisible dust from his royal blue, silver embroidered jacket he then straightened the crown on his head and took a deep breath. It was time.

At that moment he door swung open and the king came in. "Are you ready?"

Robin's eyes went wide at the sight of the man's clothes. He _had_ said that he would wear traditional Blüdhaven garb and the prince had assumed that it would be something like the riding outfit, but, even though this reminded him of that a little, it was far more splendid. Black linen trouser disappeared into black high leather boots with a trim of deep orange. The shirt was black as well, and quite simple, but on top of that was a long leather vest, looking like a sleeveless version of Robin's jacket as the sides came down just below the middle of the man's thighs. It was made of half black, half orange leather and was covered by hundreds, probably thousands, of metal studs. Black, silver and copper glinted in the light from the oil lamps, picking out the man's coat of arms where the halves of the vest met on his chest. The rest of the studs created abstract geometrical patterns, covering every inch and turning the garment into armor as efficient as chain mail. There weren't any lace, silk or embroidery; this proclaimed very strongly that Slade was a warrior king and not to be trifled with. Robin found himself swallowing nervously. He could finally see how feminine the Gotham fashion must seem to the Blüdhavian people… before, he had scoffed at the lack of refinement in their outfits, but now he realized that their clothes served a much more serious purpose than his own. In Gotham you flaunted your _wealth_, in Blüdhaven you showed off your _skill_.

"Are you nervous?" the king asked as Robin hadn't responded to his question, merely gawked at him. It was hard to judge what the boy was thinking, but he didn't look completely disgusted at least. His blue eyes now met Slade's and he made a little coughing noise.

"No… no… I mean… I'm ready-" he suddenly stopped and his eyes narrowed as he noticed something new. "You've had a new crown made."

"Yes. Blüdhaven and Gotham are no longer two separate countries; I couldn't wear one crown _or_ the other. We are one… just like you and I will be."

Robin felt his face heat up but ignored the man. The crown Slade was wearing now was impressive enough in gold and large stones. At the front Blüdhaven's coat of arms was molded in copper and gold and under that, smaller, was the Gotham emblem. It was very clear who ruled who.

"You will wear your old one until we're married, though." the man continued. "After all, you still represent Gotham until then. Shall we?" Slade offered him his arm, but Robin snorted.

"We shall, but I will walk in on my own _next _to you, not on your arm!"

"Very well, I won't argue with you on this," the king said, and his voice more or less hinted that there would be other arguments coming up that he wouldn't let the prince win. "Come. They are waiting."

When the double doors opened Robin, though he was prepared for it, was still overwhelmed at the amount of people crammed into the vast throne room. Music started up and that was startling too, as it was like nothing the young man had ever heard. There were horns and flutes but also an instrument he didn't recognize, which almost sounded like wailing human voices. It _should_ be an awful sound, but somehow it was moving and majestic… he couldn't see the players and didn't want to look around like an idiot, but he decided he had to find out about that sound later. It was clearly of Blüdhaven origin, but how was it made?

The walk up to their thrones felt very long. They sat down at the same time, Robin had insisted on at least getting _that_ much recognition. After all, he hadn't signed the contract yet… The prince, as he was still not an adult by Gotham law, knew that he wasn't even close in status to Deathstroke, but the man had agreed that it was a sign to the people that their 'old' prince was respected by their new king.

Robin was so relived to be sitting down at last, that he let his mind wander during the Reciting of the Houses. He knew his own –or rather Bruce's- linage well enough, after all, although he listened to Slade's. There was a long row of names, both male and female, and they were all forgotten again almost instantly, there were just too many. The only name that stuck was the man's father's; Nathaniel. Robin wondered why neither Grant not Joseph had been named after him. He asked the man this in a discreet whisper, and the king chuckled.

"There have been two 'Nathaniel' in my family; both died in their forties from a blow to the head… I didn't want to risk there being a third one…"

Robin nodded. He could understand that.

Next it was the witnesses' turn. Duke Blackgate was first, and the prince enjoyed hearing him praise them both and their union. He couldn't help but look over at the king and saw a similar small smirk on _his_ lips. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments and the smirks widened.

Most of them, even Joseph and Wintergreen, focused on the benefits for the countries the union would bring… although the marriage, of course, really had nothing to do with that.

_Apparently we're pretending this was what we all wanted from the start now_, Robin thought bitterly to himself.

Lord Riley's speech differed, though, because he dared bring up how the current king had served the prince, though he focused on telling the story of the hunt and how the prince's bravery and the king's strength and knowledge had saved his life. He didn't mention Bryant Blackgate's part of the story, but he implied it by saying 'where others ran in fear', which made those who dared snicker. Robin was among them. His speech was a romantic one, his point that they were made for each other −even hinting at love− and that made the prince uncomfortable, although the audience gobbled it up.

"There will be songs based on this speech," Slade murmured as it ended.

"I can practically _hear_ them being written right now," Robin replied dryly in the same, quiet tone. What made it worse was that they had now reached the moment where they would exchange gifts, and Robin's would only _add_ to the story of the speech.

"His Highness, Prince Robin Wayne, will now present his gift to His Majesty, King Slade Wilson the First," Valet Bobbins pronounced.

Robin rose from his seat, feeling somewhat nervous, and took the parchment handed to him by his own valet.

"I, Prince Robin of Gotham, hereby give thee, My King, the deed to the Wayne Hunting Lodge," he said in the expected official manner and, with a bow, handed the beautifully written document over. While going through the list of his personal possessions, he had discovered that the lodge had been the late king's private property, not the crown's, and had therefore been left to him after Bruce's death. Robin didn't want it, and had no particular personal attachments to it, so it had been an easy choice to give it up… although he hadn't counted on the fact that it now was connected to 'romantic and heroic' acts, through Riley's speech. It had been _meant_ to be an_ impersonal_ gift, mirroring his feelings about this union, but judging by the whispers and sighs across the hall, it was suddenly a romantic one, steeped in underlying meaning and devotion.

_Fuck_, Robin thought. No other word than the Blüdhavian one really fit.

"Your Highness, I gratefully accept your gift. I remember the place fondly and hope that we'll hunt there again one day soon," the king replied, having risen to receive the present. By the way his eye glittered, Robin just knew that the man knew _exactly_ what he was thinking.

"And now His Majesty King Slade Wilson the First will present his gift to His Highness Prince Robin Wayne," Bobbins announced.

Robin had to admit that he was curious. He supposed the gift would be something to represent Blüdhaven's strengths like a sword or maybe gems, so he was a bit surprised when the king gave an order.

"Open the doors!"

When the order was obeyed people gasped, but no one as loudly as the prince, who shot up from his seat.

"You're… you're… giving me…?"

"Well, you like him, don't you? And he likes you too."

The huge black horse neighed a bit nervously, holding his head high and looking about the strange room. He was giving the two stablehands holding him quite a lot of trouble.

"Slayer!" Robin called out and, the spectators forgotten, almost leapt off the dais to greet the animal.

Not that many people in the room had actually_ seen_ the prince and the horse together and several gasps and cries of 'be careful, Your Highness!" echoed through the room when he held out his hand for the nervous horse. Slayer, however, lowered his head and, after giving the hand a sniff, he jovially bumped his nose against the young man's shoulder, forgetting his strange surroundings. Robin laughed and gave the big softie a hug, not giving a damn about how it looked.

"Thank you, Your Majesty, I gratefully accept your generous gift," Robin managed to say as he, reluctantly, returned to the dais a few minutes later.

Slayer, however, seemed to have decided that the room didn't smell enough of horse and, to many people's horror, lifted his tail.

Robin and Slade tried not to laugh too loudly as the clumps of dung splattered on the polished stone floor. The stablehands knew that this happened with horses, however, and had come prepared with a broom and pan. The horse was led out to be returned to more familiar surroundings, but the scent lingered a bit. Robin quite _liked_ that.

That whole incident meant that the prince barely noticed the reading of the wedding contract, and actually most of their guests seemed more eager to whisper about the gifts than listening to a magistrate reciting a longwinded text.

The room didn't turn return to somber formality until the contract was to be signed. A clerk first kneeled in front of the king and then Robin, supporting an ornate wooden base where the contract rested. Another clerk handed them a pen, freshly dipped in ink, and they both signed. The prince did his very best not to let his feelings show. He was signing away everything he had grown up thinking he had a right to, and at the same time this piece of paper represented a death sentence pardon. It was no wonder his emotions were in turmoil.

A long row of well-wishers then lined up according to rank. The gifts were smaller than they could expect for their wedding, but that didn't mean many weren't valuable. From silk to pelts and leather to swords, daggers and exotic birds in gold cages. Wintergreen presented them with a map of the known world, redrawn to include Gotham under Blüdhaven's rule, which would now be the standard map of the realm. Joseph, the bastard, gave them ten sets of exquisite bed linen, embroidered with their joined coat of arms and initials. It was a reminder the prince could have done without, but it _was_ a rather traditional gift. It wasn't the only one, though, as the blond prince produced a folded piece of paper, which turned out to be a plan depicting rooms Robin didn't recognize.

"As you ordered us to look into the water heater technology used here, my brother and I have taken the liberty of not only begin constructing it, but installing it, with a full bath, adjoining the Royal quarters at Lockhaven Castle."

"Very good, thank you," Slade nodded and Robin did as well, although it was more a gift for the king, when the man returned to his home country. The prince didn't really plan to as much as visit.

The line seemed endless but then, finally, it was time to move into the ballroom for the banquet.

Robin stood up and hurriedly grabbed the king's arm, hugging it tightly.

"What's this? I thought you didn't want to be this 'intimate'," the king asked with a grin.

"My legs are asleep!" Robin hissed in agony.

"Would you like me to carry you?"

"No!" The prince sucked in air through his teeth as the tingling in his limbs became almost too much to bear, before it, slowly, began to die away. "Let's go," he said stiffly and, after releasing the man's arm, they led the way into the ballroom side by side. Robin didn't look forward to several more hours of sitting down, but that was how long the dinner was reckoned to take. This was not surprising as there were twenty courses to be served…

It started out gently with a salad made of the very first greens of the season, followed by a fish soup and after that quail stuffed with mushrooms. Robin only ate a little of each dish, while others even gestured for the servants to bring more. He had a glass of wine, which he sipped, but the king had, rather demonstratively, poured a large glass of water for him himself and put that next to the wine; a clear signal that he thought Robin should be careful. The prince already knew the night would be long and half their company would end up on the floor sooner or later, and didn't want to join them.

As he looked down along the long rows of tables, which were pretty cramped with the amount of guests, he felt almost dizzy, despite the lack of alcohol.

The king grumbled a little when another bird-dish was brought in, and Robin put that aside altogether.

"_I'm_ waiting for the meat, but I thought you liked fowl?" the man said.

"I do. Just not duck," Robin replied. "Besides, I have to save some room for the venison as well," he added with a little smile.

Eventually the main courses arrived; thick slices of deer, wild boar and moose, and Robin could hear the appreciative rumble from the Blüdhaven guests. He dug in too, and he liked the slightly smoky taste from the whole roasted meat.

The last five courses were desserts, mixed with fresh fruits and nuts. During the whole evening there were music, acrobats, poets and other performers, including, of course, bards. Many of these had composed their own songs to celebrate -or _very lightly _mock- the future grooms. Robin just laughed at the ones which were supposed to be funny, even though it was a bit forced at times, but then a man with a thick southern accent entered the small central stage and began a long epos about 'brave King Slade and fair Prince Robin'.

"Can someone make him _stop_ soon?" Robin groaned around the fifteenth verse where he was more or less, described as a 'fair maiden'.

"No one is paying much attention," the king chuckled_. He_ obviously was.

"Wait, is this the same man who claimed I turn into a woman at night? The one the DiMaggio girls told us about?" the prince suddenly gasped.

"Might be."

"I thought you would _deal _with him?"

"You sound like you are out for his blood. I asked Wintergreen to spread the word that, though we can stand a bit of jest, we require to be shown respect. That should have done it, at least in the castle itself."

"And what is _this_?"

"Romantic?"

"It's not _romantic_, it's _wrong_! I'm not… I'm not 'frail as a dove with sapphire eyes' or whatever he just sang!" The whole conversation was held in whispers, although they were alone at the head table.

The king just chuckled and shook his head. "He's half right," the man claimed.

"You better _not_ mean the frail part."

"No, no… I wouldn't_ dare_," Slade grinned.

Finally the meal was over and those who could still walk were shown back into the throne room to have a last glass of wine and mingle in a more informal way before heading to bed.

Robin was making his rounds with Slade, greeting and thanking their guests, and finally made it to where Joseph was standing with a mix of Blüdhaven and Gotham nobles.

"So," one of them just asked. "will you assume the role of chancellor soon, Your Highness?"

"No, no, my father will rule both countries as king. That title will not be used until my brother inherits the throne. But I will stay here to _represent _my father when he and the prince return to Blüdhaven after the wedding."

Robin went stiff as a board as he heard that, and he saw Slade tense as well.

"What do you mean?" the Gotham prince asked in a _very_ even voice. "I have no plans to go to Blüdhaven at this time?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, father, did I misunderstand you?" Joseph blinked. "I thought it was decided that-"

"It is. The Prince and I haven't had the opportunity to discuss it yet, however." Slade answered between clenched teeth. "I thought it would be wiser to wait until after the wedding."

"Well, we're going to discuss it _now_!" Robin growled, startling several guests around him.

"Not here." Placing a hand on the small of the prince's back, Slade quickly escorted him out in an unhurried manner, like they were just leaving for the evening. The party would go on until morning without them.

"I will _not_ leave Gotham! I _refuse_!" Robin shouted a few minutes later. They were in the Royal chambers and they were not alone. Both Joseph, Wintergreen and Alfred had trailed along, either out of concern or because they wanted to watch the show.

"You'll like Blüdhaven, it's beautiful there," Joseph cut in.

"This is my _home_!"

"You have_ two_ homes soon, and you should know _both_ of them," Slade told him firmly. "My throne is in Blüdhaven, and it was always my intention to rule from Deathstroke's keep."

"I don't give a rotten herring for your intentions!" the dark-haired prince snarled. "I'll stay here."

"No."

"You promised me a farm!"

"You are young, there is plenty of time for that. And it's not like you will never see Gotham again; we'll probably travel here every other year or so. Also the messenger service will be permanently established so it won't take more than a few days for letters to reach anyone you might want to write."

"Every _other year_?!"

"We can't travel during winter, and that's why we should leave after the wedding. It's still just spring here, but the snow comes early in the mountains, and I'd like to be back and settled long before then."

"Then _you_ go! I'll stay here with Joseph, he might need my help."

"You are coming."

"NO! Not even if you tie me to the back of your horse!" Robin yelled and stormed out the door.

"Alfred, go after him, make sure a guard follows him. I'll leave him to cool down for the night," Slade told the valet.

"Very well, Your Majesty," the old man bowed.

"So… that was entertaining… want me to go find some?" Wintergreen asked after the valet has left.

"Find some what?" Slade muttered.

"Rope?"

* * *

"Get out, I don't want to talk to you!"

Not a good start, Slade figured. It was morning and he had hoped the boy would have come to his senses a bit. That was _not_ the case.

"You'll get to bring all your favorite things, even some furniture if you wish. The packing has already begun," the man said… which was a horrible mistake.

"Packing? But…" Robin's eyes landed on his valet. "You _knew _about this?! You _KNEW_ and you didn't _TELL ME_!?"

"Y-your Highness, I- I-"

"He was under my orders," Slade told the prince. "I didn't want this to get in the way of the wedding preparations, and-"

"OUT! BOTH OF YOU! OUT! RIGHT NOW!" Slade had to step to the side as a tea pot, half full with boiling hot water, crashed against the wall where he had just been standing. Alfred was already doing the clever thing and fleeing. The king decided to make a hasty retreat as well.

The guards outside had heard the commotion and were on their way in, but Slade stopped them.

"The prince needs time to… calm down. If he wants to leave, let him, but escort him very closely. If he decided to go riding… let him do that as well, but _only_ with protection, is that understood?"

The guards nodded.

"Actually, Your Majesty," Alfred spoke up, "I would be happy to send word to the stables to get extra horses prepared… they will most likely be needed and the prince won't wait around for his guards."

"Yes, you are right, do that. And cancel all the prince's appointments for the day."

"But... there's less than a week to the wedding, and-"

"Would _you_ like him to make decisions and deal with people like the tailor right now?" Slade scoffed. "I didn't think so. Now, hurry before he decides to climb out a window."

* * *

That evening Robin was tired, sore from the saddle and dirty from dust and sweat. He was also still in a bad mood. He now was back in his rooms, having been surprised that he had even been allowed to leave, much less go riding, and he had called the servants to prepare a bath for him. He had _not_ called Alfred, though. He knew the old man had to follow the king's orders, but it still felt like being betrayed… betrayed all over again.

There was a knock on the door, instantly telling Robin that it was not Slade, but someone with more manners.

"I saw you return, is it safe to enter?" Joseph asked as he peeked in, actually looking a bit hesitant.

"Depends. I don't want to hear a word about your damn country!" Robin snorted.

"Darn, there went my most interesting topic," the other young man grinned and entered the room fully. "How are you feeling?"

"How would_ you_ feel?"

"Well... I have left my country as well…"

"But you _wanted_ to!"

"I came here for the wedding. I fully expected to return home with you and my father, but he asked me to stay behind… I wasn't happy about that either, especially as my only brother got married on the same day I arrived here… I missed his wedding and now I might miss their first child too."

"Your sister-in-law is pregnant?" Robin blinked.

"Not yet as far as I know of, but if I know Grant she will be in no time," the blond grinned. "Besides, Siw comes from a large family… she's probably very fertile."

"I- I don't really feel comfortable talking about this," Robin mumbled, blushing.

"Well, at least _you_ will be there," Joseph shrugged.

"No, I won't!"

The blond sighed a little. "What's so bad about it anyway?" he asked.

"I said I don't want to talk about it! Did he send you here to convince me?"

"No, I'm fully capable of making stupid decisions all by myself," the Blüdhavian prince admitted as he sank down into an armchair.

"You take after your father, then," Robin snorted, and got a chuckle in reply. The younger man sank down into a chair as well, feeling like he never wanted to get up again. "It's just that… this is my home…"

"I understand, like I said, I'm facing a similar situation. All my friends are back home, the rest of my family…"

Robin swallowed. He didn't really _have_ any friends, not really close ones anyway… and no family… what was holding him here was simply that − he just didn't want to leave! And the king not _telling _him..! _Ordering _him to…! No, he would _not _leave Gotham, and that was final.

"I thought you would love it, actually… two or three weeks on Slayers back, from morning to evening… sure, the convoy will be big and move quite slowly, but I'm certain father wouldn't mind a few excursions…"

Robin blinked. "We could… ride the whole way?"

Joseph flashed him a somewhat triumphant smile. "Of course. How did you think you would get there? Turn into an actual robin and fly?"

"It will take that long?"

"Yes, at least, depending on what and how many people you'll bring. When I rode here we changed horses several times and that took almost a week. A letter gets here much quicker as it changes hands to a fresh horse and rider every couple of miles… and we rode pretty hard ourselves to get here in time… with a caravan, soldiers, packing… you'll be living on that horseback."

"Oh."

"Not to speak of how to get around in Blüdhaven. Father will need to travel a bit once you get there, to make sure everything is in order, and he'll take you with him to see the country, of course… and carriages are rather useless on many of our roads, so you'll have good use of Slayer… oh and you might spot the wild horses as well..."

"Wild horses?"

"Wild war horses… there is a big heard of them close to Lockhaven. It's both the original wild animals and some who have escaped from battlefields and so on… and their descendants… oh, and Wintergreen said that at least now he didn't have to pick out the horses he owes you; you can do that yourself at the huge autumn horse market in Lockhaven. There will be a large selection of the country's most beautiful horses there for you to pick and choose from."

Robin sat quite for a while, letting it all sink in.

"But Rain might be pregnant… I wanted to be there when it's time…" he said halfheartedly.

"Well, she won't be due for… what? Another ten months? By then it will soon be spring again, and maybe you can convince my father to take a short trip down here. He'd want to keep an eye on things anyway…"

Now, Robin wasn't stupid; he knew when he was being tempted, and he doubted the roads would be travelable yet in ten months… he would most likely miss the birth… but still…

"Or you could always bring her with you? She could walk with the carts, it won't take too much out of her," Joseph added as an afterthought.

"You think I could?"

"Robin, father would dismantle the _throne room_ if you said that you wanted to bring it," the blond said with a short laugh.

"Maybe I should go talk to him… tomorrow." Robin said as the servants he had called for entered.

"You rang, Your Highness?"

"Yes, prepare a bath for me," Robin ordered. "And bring some supper. Then you're dismissed."

Joseph rose from his seat.

"I think that is my cue to leave. Sleep well, Your Highness."

"You too," Robin gave him a little smile. "And thank you for… coming to see me."

"Always a pleasure," the blond grinned and disappeared out the door.

A small cough drew the prince's attention back to the servants.

"Valet Pennyworth wanted to know if-" the braver of the two said.

"Tell Alfred that I'll see him first thing in the morning as usual," Robin told them. "And not a moment sooner."

Once he was alone again and in his bath, Robin pondered the idea of leaving. If Joseph thought it was just the horses beckoning, he was wrong; there was something else too. If they left soon after the wedding and were on the roads a lot then the king would surely leave him alone at night, wouldn't he? He couldn't touch him in a caravan, surrounded by other people, could he? And once they got to Blüdhaven the man was sure to be too busy… Now, staying behind would be even better, of course, but deep inside Robin knew that Slade _would_ bind him to his saddle if he had to, and to leave in that humiliating way…? No, that would _not_ do for a prince of Gotham.

* * *

"I have decided to come with you to Blüdhaven… at least for the winter," Robin informed the king the next morning as he visited the man in his rooms.

"Oh? What brought that on? Never mind, I'm glad that that's settled," the man said. "Now, about Alfred-"

"I told him that he was forgiven this morning… but never keep anything like this from me again, Deathstroke!" the prince added the last part in a growl.

"I won't… but that wasn't what I meant. Robin… he's an old man…"

"Yes?"

"It's a long trip, and the winters in Blüdhaven are hard…"

"Are you – are you saying… he's not coming with us?" Robin stammered, his heart clenching painfully.

"I had a talk with him. He is the one who has reservations, and I support his decision. He'll get a full and generous pension and lodgings in the castle or in the city as he wishes… but you might have to arrange for a new valet."

"I don't_ want _a new valet, I want Alfred! It has _always_ been Alfred!" Robin yelled, tears burning in his eyes. Before the king could say anything else, the price had turned on the spot and rushed out.

"I heard yelling? Is Robin here?" Joseph asked as he came out from his own room.

"He was and he left."

"Huh… I thought he'd be in a better mood after last night."

"You talked to him?"

"Am I in trouble?"

"No, you apparently did very well. This was about Alfred choosing not to come… and I expect the old man to sort this one out."

"So the rope isn't off the table, then?" Joseph grinned.

"No, seems not…" the king sighed and shook his head.

* * *

"But Alfred-!"

"Your Highness," the valet said in a very patient voice. "My joints pains me in the winter already. The cold in the mountains would make it so much worse. Even now, the stairs are a challenge for me… I am very saddened to leave your side, but-"

"Then I won't go!" Robin decided, changing his mind yet again.

"Nonsense! You are a prince, it is your responsibility to do what is best for the country and your king. Your place is by your husband's side, and I won't hear any more of this selfish, childish drivel!"

Robin felt like he had been slapped, but he knew Alfred was a great advocate for what was 'proper'; the man had raised him, after all. "It's... really that bad to want to stay?" he asked carefully.

"It is always difficult to leave home, my dear boy…" the man said warmly. "But I think it is time."

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: well, it couldn't ALL be happy surprises, could it? Poor Robin, he was beginning to feel a bit more confident again and then his world is turned on its side once more… one might even suspect there is some kind of writer making this happen to him… at least he's better at listening now... ;)


	31. Trouble Rides a Fast Horse

A/N: thank you **Robin555** for being my beta this time!

This week's title is an Italian proverb.

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 31: Trouble Rides a Fast Horse**

Robin was in a somber mood after his talk with Alfred. Even now, the next day, he wasn't impolite to anyone: he was simply… quiet. He had known that his life and his status would change once he was married, but he now had begun to realize just how much.

"Your Highness? We need a measurement for the wedding ring," Alfred told him, disturbing his thoughts.

"Wedding ring? Oh… yes… are the rings done, or…?" Again, as with much of this wedding, he hadn't paid much attention.

"His Majesty provided the rings, we just need to adjust the sizes," the valet told him and someone −a goldsmith or a goldsmith's apprentice Robin assumed− approached him with a set of brass rings for him to try on. It didn't take long to find the right size and the man left with a deep bow. The prince barely acknowledged him as he stared down on his now bare finger. He had never worn rings. He owned a signet ring but seldom used it. His wedding band, however, was something he would be wearing for the rest of his life… or at least until he became a widower. Neither of those thoughts appealed to him, but he remembered Alfred's words and pushed the feelings away. Duty. That needed to be the word he would to live by now.

"If you would come with me, Your Highness, or we'll be late for the meeting," Alfred suddenly said, once again breaking through the young man's thoughts.

"Meeting? Oh, the wedding plans… we really need another meeting? I thought you had it all arranged?"

"This is more or less to inform you and the king of the proceedings and make sure there's nothing you object to," his valet explained as he hurriedly rushed him out the door.

"I won't object to anything as long as it's over soon," Robin muttered. But he was wrong.

"The ceremony itself will take place in the throne room. Usually the chapel is used, but-" Bobbins trailed off and looked embarrassed.

"But?" Slade asked.

"The convent is not… very happy with the new law. Their leader has agreed to perform the wedding ceremony, but he firmly objected to it taking place in the chapel."

"They are citizens of this country; they will obey it's laws," Slade said firmly. "I won't insist on the chapel, however, I think the throne room will suit the amount of guests much better. So this… monk… will perform the ceremony?"

"Yes, assisted by me and the head magistrate," Ironwrought, the Blüdhavian scribe, let them know, nodding to his wizened old colleague. "We've had to work on the ceremony so it is legal in both provinces."

"Good. Well, what's next?"

"Well, we have had some discussions about who will escort the prince to the altar," the magistrate said.

"There will be no need for that, we can walk in together like we did for the engagement, can't we?" Robin asked.

"A wedding ceremony is not only a symbol for joining two halves or two houses, it's also an offering ceremony," the magistrate lectured. "Traditionally, the bride-"

"But I'm not a bride! There _is_ no bride, so we should walk in together!" Robin snapped.

"In this case it's also the matter of Gotham submitting to Blüdhaven," the old man went on, unperturbed. "The symbolism is very strong, and I doubt His Majesty wants it to seem like the provinces are equals."

Robin turned his eyes on the king, hoping for a voice of reason, but he was disappointed.

"I agree, the prince should come to me," the man said. "But I understand your problem; who has authority enough to hand him over?"

"Duke Black-"

"No!" At least this time Robin and the king agreed, as they both had objected to the magistrate's suggestion.

"But his house is second only to House Wayne…?" the old man didn't seem to understand the problem.

"It is a… personal wish. I suppose it can't be a dignitary from another country? Or from Blüdhaven?"

"Not if you want the symbolism to work, Your Majesty."

"Very well, then… Duke Sprang River will have to do," Slade decided.

"But-!" Robin objected. That man might be his friend's father, but he was probably as deeply involved as Blackgate.

"It's decided," the king said sharply and gave his betrothed a look that didn't leave any room for argument.

"Lord Blackgate needs to be a part in the ceremony as well, however, Sir," Bobbins spoke up, "Otherwise his omission will be seen as a great insult."

"Have him hold the rings," the king shrugged.

"But… in Gotham that role is usually reserved for a small child or a woman the bride knows well…?"

"In Blüdhaven that's the greatest honor of them all," Slade said, and gave the other men a smirk. "At least that's what I need him to be convinced off… is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Your Majesty," his scribe grinned in return.

* * *

"And then your _father_-" Robin spat the word as he parried a strike from Joseph's practice sword, "thought that me being _given_ to him, like a _woman_, was an _excellent _idea!"

"First of all, you got to get rid of- ouff!- that idea you have about women! Ha! Got you!" Joseph replied. "You're not a girl, no, but it's not an _insult_ to be one!"

"No, but –hey!- they… they aren't _men_!"

"Damn Gotham narrow-minded views…" the blond snorted.

"But men are just more… powerful!" Robin objected.

"_Here_, maybe, but say something like that in Blüdhaven and I know at least six women who would make you shout for father before they were done with you."

Robin only snorted in reply, not sure if he should take what the blond said seriously or not. Joseph, however, wasn't quite done.

"The women here in the south are so _boring_! They have no sense of adventure!" he complained.

"They just know how to act like ladies," Robin defended them. "Besides, I don't think someone like Eleanor is boring!"

"Well… no, maybe not− hey! Unfair! No attacking when a man is thinking about a woman!" the blond objected to Robin's clever tactic.

"Then I'd _never_ get to attack you!" the prince grinned. "So… you talked to her some more then?" he added and lowered his sword in defeat. They were in the practice hall and on equal terms Joseph had proved himself to be Slade's son.

"We were seated together at the engagement dinner, didn't you notice?" the blond said, not acknowledging his win with more than a nod.

"Actually… no… there were just so many people and it was all a bit overwhelming…" Robin admitted.

"So it wasn't your doing, then? That we were seated together? I thought for sure that it would be her older sister or that Blackgate woman… Bryant's older sister? Dear _god_ that one scared me half to death!"

"Well, at least she's not boring?" the Gotham prince grinned. "But, no, that wasn't my idea. I_ wish_ I had thought about it, though…"

"I would like to bet that my father was behind it then… clever old coot."

"Please don't call my future husband 'old coot', it's very depressing…" Robin sighed.

"Are you picturing yourself changing his diapers in a few years? Don't worry, father will throw himself from a cliff before it gets that far."

"Don't say that!" the younger man snapped. The thought left him feeling strangely cold, though he wasn't sure why.

"Awwww…" the blond teased him. "I think you _like _my father, Robin."

"No I don't!" he prince snorted. "He's very… it's just that he's…"

"Yes?"

"He should have just stayed my bed-slave, and it would have been perfect," Robin muttered.

"Heh… well, as soon as you're married I think he'd be happy to let you treat him like one," the blond grinned.

"I should pack his leash, then!" Robin sniffed, making the other man burst out laughing and then demand to hear _exactly _what his father had been put through as a slave.

* * *

They left the training hall soon after, with one guard as their escort. Joseph had argued with his father about needing the extra protection, but he had gotten as far as Robin on that point; the man hadn't budged an inch.

"Let's not go back to our room quite yet," the blond said. "They will only drag you away to try on shoes or something… can't you show me a bit more of the castle? Father said it had some very strange nooks and crannies?"

"Yes, it's not unusual for people to get lost," Robin grinned. "Let's start on the lowest floors and work our way up!"

They had barely begun their exploring, however, when they were in a rather dark, winding corridor, and Robin spotted someone crossing it quite far ahead.

"That was Duke Blackgate… what is he doing here?" the prince muttered.

"Are you sure it was him?" Joseph asked. "It's dark down here, maybe-?"

"I'm sure… and we're going to follow him, hurry!" Robin whispered.

"Your Highness, I don't think-" their guard began.

"Not a word, let's go," the dark-haired young man snapped and, on light feet, rushed down the hallway the duke had taken.

"But we don't know where he's going?" Joseph pointed out, keeping his voice low.

"There are mostly small storage rooms around here, and the dungeons if you take a right, but if you take a left, you come to the old wine cellars… if he's meeting someone, I bet it will be there."

It turned out that Robin was right, but the duke wasn't just meeting one person…

"It smells like seaweed down here…" the blond muttered after a little while.

"It's just the damp," Robin whispered back. "The cliff the castle is standing on has caves in it, I've been told, and when there's a storm or really high tide, they fill with sea water."

They continued by the light of the sparsely placed oil lamps. Those were made to burn for a long time, safely behind thick glass, meaning that they only needed to be refilled every few days or so. The small flame only gave a tiny bit of light, however, only just enough to navigate by.

Suddenly they heard voices, but they couldn't hear what was being said. The sounds were like echoes of an echo, and the Gotham prince insisted that they should go closer.

"Prince Robin, Prince Joseph, I strongly advice against-" the guard said, and those where his last words. Robin at first didn't understand why the man had stopped talking until he fell to the floor with a crossbow bolt in his back. As he fell Robin saw that four Gotham guards had crept up behind them. Robin vaguely recognized three of them and the fourth…

"Captain Sinclair!"

"Indeed, Your Highness, if you would move along? And don't bother to draw your swords… I have a feeling these crossbows would accidentally go off if you do," he said and gestured to two of his men whose weapons were still loaded. The captain himself put away the one he had fired and drew his sword instead, apparently feeling that two bows were enough for now.

They were herded along the corridor and into the wine cellar itself, drawing several gasps as they were recognized by the men gathered there.

"Well, well, well, this is an interesting council…" Robin said dryly. "Duke Blackgate, Duke Sprang River, oh and Lord Hady, of course…" he nodded. There were a few lesser nobles as well, but Robin didn't care to even look at them. They didn't trouble him. What _did_, though, was that they all seemed to have brought their own body guards. The prince felt his heart speed up. This was bad.

"Wha-what is this? What are the princes doing here?" Duke Sprang River stammered.

"I didn't _plan_ it!" Duke Blackgate snapped.

"We caught them just down the hall, sneaking up on you," Sinclair explained.

"What… what are we going to do now?" Sprang River asked nervously.

"Well, we can't let them go, so we're changing our plans. Instead of killing the Blüdhaven prince after the king has left for his _hills_, we'll get rid of both of them now. Looks like the princes and their guard had an unfortunate run in with some evil rebels…" Duke Blackgate smirked. "If Captain Sinclair leads the search, it might be weeks until their bodies are found. Plenty of time to cover our tracks, gentlemen. This is a gift, I tell you."

"We're… we're going to kill them?" one of the lesser nobles piped up. "I… I came here to listen to your ideas, Blackgate, nothing else!"

"Fools!" the duke snarled. "This is no mere_ game_, gentlemen, this is _treason_. Your heads are as good as on spikes already unless you do as I say! The only thing that can save you is the death of these two boys! Once they are gone I will offer my service as chancellor, and as I'm the most powerful Lord in the country, the king can't refuse me. Once I'm in power, we'll take Gotham back!"

There was a murmur and a rustle of weapons being drawn or readied.

"The traitor is wrong!" Robin barked. "The king would not give him access to that kind of power, it would be given to general Wintergreen! Furthermore we can offer those who help us a royal pardon! Blackgate will never seize the throne from Deathstroke, and if we disappear the king will have you all questioned… painfully! He already knows who to question. Look at the man next to you, do you think he'll keep your name secret when burning coals are pressed against his eyes? And Blackgate will be the first to be interrogated! Do you trust the traitor of your country not to talk or blame it all on you?"

"The king suspects _nothing_!" the Duke snarled in reply as the murmur turned worried.

"He already knows how you spoke to Lord Hady up on the roof the other night," Robin spat. "You called me 'that bastard of a whore's son', if that's proof enough for you?"

"Help us defeat the Duke and anyone who follows him, and I can confirm that you will keep your heads," Joseph spoke up, sounding, and looking, like he was talking to the lowest filth on earth.

"Yes, as slaves! With your fortunes gone and your name spat in the streets as a curse for a hundred years!" Blackgate roared. "They have no proof, only rumors! Kill them!"

"No!" It was Duke Sprang River who pushed the princes to the side as the guards raised their crossbows. He was rewarded with two bolts to the chest, and then chaos broke out.

The abandoned wine cellar was, thanks to Blackgate's men, better lit than the corridors, but it wasn't a big open place like the training hall . Many of the walls were still lined with wine racks, some of them having fallen over or even broke. Half rotted pieces of wood littered the already uneven stone floor. The prince backed away to have enough space to swing his sword.

Robin and Joseph had both drawn their blades by now, but they had no way of knowing who was on their side. As it turned out, the Lords had divided their loyalties pretty evenly, and were now fighting both the guards, the remaining duke, and then each other in the confusion.

Robin suddenly faced a smirking Sinclair, who seemed sure of victory. He died with a look of utter surprise on his face. Robin grimaced as his upper arm burned. A random slice. There was no time to see how bad it was, however, because several people were now attacking at once.

Joseph fought with a cold, deadly fury, almost like he was doing a job, not fending for his life. Robin was a little hesitant and mostly just defended himself from those choosing to attack him, but blond went on the offensive. In the end it was clear that the fight was going in the prince's favor. Most of their opponents threw down their weapons and tried to escape. Robin quickly blocked their way, though, and had them stand against a wall. The only one not lowering his sword was the Duke, who just stabbed one of the dead lord's bodyguards in the chest before, like a roaring animal, rushing at Robin.

"You little, dirty-" he spat.

Robin knew that he didn't want the Duke to have an easy death, even though he could have provided one without much effort. As the man swung wildly at him, he stepped to the side and then slammed the hilt of his sword into the man's face with all his might. The sound of the man's nose crunching was the most satisfying one the young man had ever heard.

After that it was all over. The surviving traitors were ordered to tie each other up, primarily using their own and the fallen one's belts. They were then, all of them, including the ones which had actually switched sides, marched out of the cellar and up through the castle, the two in the front dragging an unconscious Blackgate between them.

When they got up to the higher, more occupied levels, their procession of course caused a great stir, and several Blüdhaven guards joined in to protect them all. Joseph had suggested going straight to the throne room at once, to face his father, and Robin hadn't objected. His arm was throbbing a bit but it wasn't really that bad. His heart was racing, though. He had been afraid down in the cellars, yes, but somehow most of it had been kept at bay and was washing over him now instead. He was well trained, however, and kept his front up. He glanced at the prince, trying to judge how he was doing, but his face was a mask too. At least he didn't seem to have a single scratch on him.

Of course they created a great commotion, and all foreign visitors as well as any commoners were hastily ushered out of the throne room as this was a matter of national security. Slade came up to the princes first, making sure neither of them were in danger and then resumed his seat, urging them to tell the room what had happened.

There were no 'courts' as such in Gotham or Blüdhaven. Sometimes councils were called if the laws or the events were unclear, but in the end it was up to the highest ranking person in the area, be it a land owner, the highest ranking soldier or the village leader, to pass judgment. In this case it was the king who presided over the trial and his word was law.

After the princes had finished their story, the men who had aided them in exchange for a pardon were separated from the others. Only three of them were still alive, and six of the traitors, including the duke, who had still to awaken.

"You have committed treason, and you should thank my son and my betrothed for their _very_ generous offers to save your heads. Not all of you took them up on this offer, however, and I sentence those who didn't, to death. You will be taken to the dungeons for questioning until the punishment is carried out. And you-" the king turned to the rest of the men. "Your heads will be spared, but you swore loyalty to me and my house in this very room. You swore on your names and your titles. Therefore you are hereby stripped of both. Individual hearings will determine if your coat of arms will be taken down from the wall in the Gallery of Houses and thrown on the dung heaps where they belong, or if your holdings will be allowed to go to your heirs. It all depends on your cooperation, so I urge you to do your best to make sure we have all the information we need. You will be escorted to the cells as well for now. Guards, place these men's families, if any of them reside at the castle, under house arrest. Also gather any of those named by these men and take them to the dungeons as well, for investigation."

"Father, may I offer a suggestion?" Joseph asked and got his wish with a nod. "If anyone in this room has been involved in this, I suggest they will get a pardon if they step forward now. If they are named without doing so, however, their lives will be forfeit."

"A good suggestion," Slade nodded. "Does anyone confess?"

Two men, shaking like leaves, stepped forward and were taken to the pardoned group.

"No one else? Very well, then. Take them away. Bobbins, collect all the information about these men, their names, their titles, and then summon a council. The session will take place in my private quarters. You will find me there in the mean while. Also, find the castle's physician and send him there to tend to Prince Robin's arm. And the old man better arrive out of breath."

The princes found themselves escorted to the king's rooms, surrounded by guards. The monarch himself was with them every step of the way, and when the doors closed behind them all, Robin felt himself swept into the man's arms and kissed hard.

"I told you not to_ do _that!" the prince objected once the man let him go. He looked around to see not only a few remaining guards, who were waiting for orders, but also Wintergreen, Joseph and Alfred. The two Blüdhavian men grinned widely, making Robin blush more. Alfred looked like he could just barely stand this blatant show of immorality, but he also seemed a bit resigned as he couldn't exactly lecture the king, especially not in front of others.

"Well, you still owed me two," the king smirked. "In fact, I'll collect the last one now, too, I think," he said, and the prince found himself kissed in the presence of people once more.

"Barbarians! The lot of you!" Robin snorted, his face a deep red, as the kiss ended. He didn't pull away, though, and remained against the man's side until the physician arrived. Out of breath as the king had wished.

"Should we go into another room, Your Highness?" the old man asked. "I will need you to remove your jacket, and possibly your shirt as well."

"I want to stay here," the prince answered firmly. "Tear off the sleeve if you need to." Robin had no intention of being left out of the discussion, which was currently going on. He was soon patched up, learning that it had only been a long but shallow flesh wound which would only need to be kept an eye on. Once the physician left, Slade sent the guards away as well with orders to keep things calm and take care of the bodies. Once that was done the remaining group began talking more freely.

"This is my fault," the king growled. "I should have chopped that man's head off a long time ago."

"If you had, he might have become a martyr to the men in the dungeon… and the wound might have festered," Joseph shrugged.

Robin nodded in agreement. "This way we'll get them all… and they will give us more names. The headsman will be very busy soon."

"No, Robin, if we turn this into a hunt, we'd lose half the houses and probably half the staff as well," Slade said, shaking his head.

"But-?" the prince began.

"We can't execute everyone who has just had a hostile _thought _against us… I'm looking to punish _actions_, not_ opinions_. There has never been a king in the history of the world who hasn't had enemies at his own court, and I doubt I'll be the first."

"But what about the men they name?" Joseph wanted to know.

"If it's discovered that they were more deeply involved, they will die," Slade shrugged. "However, scared men do whatever it takes, and will accuse innocent people as well, to make themselves look good… so we will take what they say with a pinch of salt. If many of them tell the same story, though…" the king added.

"And how about the executions? How and when?" Wintergreen asked. "Before the wedding or after?"

"Before. As it's only three days away, I would prefer if we could get it out of the way tomorrow."

"And… how? Do we make an example out of them?" the general wanted to know. "That is, should their deaths be… inventive?"

"Joseph, Robin? You were the ones in immediate danger, what do you say?" the king wanted to know.

"I've always despised the Duke… and his son even more, but-"

"Yes, Bryant!" Joseph cut in. "I think it's safe to say that he knew about this and supported it as well. He should join his father tomorrow."

"He's only a boy," Slade told his son. "Younger than you."

"He's an adult according to the law… and little pups grow up…" Wintergreen warned him.

"Losing his money and his status would probably be worse for him than losing his life," Robin snorted. "But what do we do with him? How can we be sure he doesn't keep plotting?"

"I know _exactly _what we will do," Slade smirked. "We'll give him the honor of serving twenty years in the Blüdhaven army. That will keep him busy enough. And I'll send him to the seventh regiment."

At that Joseph and Wintergreen laughed, leaving Robin to look puzzled.

"What's so special about the seventh?" he asked.

"It is rarely at rest, patrols borders, clears rubble and snow… and the one in charge is a woman," the bold prince explained. "Actually that regiment is very popular with women overall… and men who feel that serving with other men can be a bit… distracting."

As he was told this, Robin began grinning as well.

"It's one of our best," Slade said. "Make no mistake about that, but a man from Gotham would find it quite hard to fit in, I imagine."

"Military service might be a good solution for the pardoned men as well… we'll have people keeping an eye on them, but they will get steady meals and even an income. It won't be close to what the lords are used to, though, but it's better than being a slave," Wintergreen said. "We can't send them to the same places, of course… but with your permission I'll take care of it."

"Do it," Slade nodded. "Ship them out as soon as they have given satisfying statements. Now, about the executions, have you come to a decision?"

"I would like to say that they should be boiled in oil or stung to death by wasps…" Robin said, "…but it feels… petty, somehow. Unworthy of this kingdom."

"A little unprofessional," Joseph nodded. "I think it's more important to show that we are _not_ savages, that we only demand justice… but their heads should still be put on display in the square like common criminals and their bodies disposed of. No graves, no preparations for the afterlife."

"Good." Slade said. "Then they will be beheaded tomorrow morning at the main square. Let the people watch. We should all be there too."

Robin nodded curtly although the idea sickened him a little. He was surprised that he didn't feel more triumphant, that he wasn't down in the dungeon now laughing in the duke's face. This _wasn't_ about personal revenge, however, it was about the attack on his country more than anything else. Well, _Deathstroke's_ country, but Robin was beginning to think of the two as the same thing. It was a shameful abomination that this conspiracy had taken place, especially as the takeover had been according to the law. No, he didn't feel happy about watching these men die tomorrow, but it needed to be done.

As there were much to do before the council was gathered to help sort out who had been involved, Slade sent Wintergreen to work and his son to change clothes to make himself more presentable. He also sent Alfred away to get new clothes for Robin, leaving the two of them alone for a moment.

"Two months ago I would never even think of looking over my shoulder here at the castle," Robin sighed. "I knew not everyone was my friend, but…"

"Sadly, this is the reality for people in power," Slade told him, coming to stand in front of the young man, who sat slouching in an arm chair. "But we must surround ourselves with a core of people we trust… and preferably_ like_ to. And then," he added, tilting the boy's chin up so he could give him a very serious look, "…there's always family."

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: So even more stuff happened… maybe not the kind of thing you would like to deal with a few days before your wedding. Think about that when you complain about the caterers messing up in a few years… ;)


	32. Gamesters and Race-Horses Never Lasts

A/N: thank you to **lemonusAli** who was my beta this time!

The title this week is an English Proverb.

Keeping it short, and I'm sorry, but I'm still a bit too stressed to take the time to answer reviews. This is bad form, but it's the way it is… so feel free to not leave one, I won't blame you! (Not that I ever blame anyone for that, but… yeah… ;) )

* * *

**By Royal Command**

**Chapter 32: Gamesters and Race-Horses Never Last Long**

Before the council could start, there was a knock on the door. A guard came in and bowed.

"Your Majesty, young Lord Sprang River has vehemently asked for an audience with you and Prince Robin since he was confined to his rooms… I know he was considered a friend of the prince, so I thought that maybe…?"

"We have time to see him right now," the king let him know, "Please escort him here."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the guard bowed again, and, in only five minutes, the young lord was shown through the door.

He instantly sank down on one knee in front of Slade.

"My King, My Prince, I-" his voice was broken, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. "When I learned about my father, I… Please, I will accept any punishment you see fit, but I assure you, I am your man! You have my complete loyalty, and I am ashamed of what my own house could have helped come to pass… I didn't know of any plans, I swear! I knew nothing more than that there were rumors and whispers… I confronted my father about it but he sent me away… I should have come to you, I'm… I'm so sorry…"

Robin could hear that this didn't come from a fear of being executed, the young man was truly mortified by shame. The prince looked over at Slade, fearing the man's verdict.

"Rise, Duke Sprang River," the king said calmly. "You've lost your father today, you won't lose more than that."

"He was the first man to step forward to help," Robin told his friend. "And I don't think he knew about the darker parts of Blackgate's plans… if he hadn't pushed us out of the way, both Prince Joseph and I would be dead."

"That… that is good to hear… but still, he was involved in treason! I thank you for your great generosity, but my house will never recover from this."

"Your father was going to represent Gotham, giving Robin away at the wedding ceremony," Slade said. Robin stiffened at the mention of that, something he had completely forgotten after what had happened. "If it pleases the prince, maybe you can do the honors in your father's stead?"

"Prince Robin? Would you… would you let me?" the young man asked.

Robin nodded, forcing a little smile onto his face. If he would do this with a friend at his side, it might not feel so bad. Besides, it would help reinstate the new Duke's reputation.

"Good, then that's settled. And if you feel that your name is too heavy to bear here for a while, you are welcome to accompany the prince and me to Blüdhaven for the winter. He could use a friendly, familiar face there."

Robin's world suddenly brightened considerably, even though he would never force anyone to come with him, of course.

"Your Highness, what about… what about we _all _go? Gordon, Riley and I? Not to escape Gotham, but to learn about our new capital and form contacts there. It would be very valuable for all of us! We… we spoke about this after the engagement, hoping to approach you to ask…"

"It would make me very happy to have you there, if the King agrees?" Robin asked.

"Of course. You better start packing," Slade gave the young man a small smile. "We have to end the audience here, I'm afraid. I've called a meeting which will hopefully be ready to start soon. You shall keep the guards outside your door for now, but for _protection_ until all this is cleared up. You never know if someone wants revenge."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the young duke bowed.

* * *

The council lasted until long into the night. Robin stayed through it all, of course, but even the king looked like he was about to nod off in the end. It turned out that the questioning had given them some results and some new names, but this little underground revolution wasn't as widespread as they had feared.

Duke Blackgate's plan had been simple; Joseph was to be assassinated when the King and Robin were already in Blüdhaven. Some said it was to happen in late autumn or early winter so that would be difficult for the king could send a replacement. Blackgate would then, with the help of his supporters, seize control. After that he would rule in 'Deathstroke's name' while actually planning to overthrow him. Most of this he had admitted himself, but he had only shared this plan with a few very close confidants. The 'outer' circle, so to speak, only knew that he intended to gain so much influence over Joseph that he would turn the blond into his puppet. The discussions about if this was actually treason or just 'politics' went rather high.

Slade in the end put his foot down and decided that the men in the outer circle wouldn't be sentenced to death, and would either serve as soldiers for five to twenty years, depending on their involvement, or pay a hefty fine to the crown.

When every accused person had been given their sentence, it stood clear that six men would die tomorrow and eight, including Bryant Blackgate, would be sent away. The Blackgate coat of arms was the only one that would be taken down from the Hall of Houses and the name was officially banned from ever being used again. Half their assets, as well as their house and lands, would go to the crown and the other half would be divided by the remaining family.

"I think I know a good place for you to start that horse farm," the king told the prince with a smirk as the meeting finally broke up.

Robin merely smiled wanly and shrugged a little. He had put those dreams aside, because it didn't look like they would come true. He felt a little angry with the man for either teasing him or trying to keep his hopes up, especially as he insisted on dragging him away from everything. Instead he kept those feelings to himself: it wasn't like anyone would listen to them anyway.

The dawn wasn't far away when the prince crawled into bed, and he was awakened again just a few hours later as the executions were set for noon.

Alfred tried to get him to eat something, but Robin merely nibbled on some bread. He was too tired and too anxious to have an appetite.

Half an hour later the three royalties, dressed in full regalia, entered the carriage that would take them to the square. Even with such short notice the streets were lined with people and the square itself was so crowded the prince doubted that even one more person would fit.

There was a raised dais in the middle where the headman already was waiting. On either side of that stood two stands facing towards it; one for the court and one for the other accused. It had been decided that these men should see the fate they just narrowly escaped. They were already seated there, guarded by soldiers, though not too closely it seemed, because just as Robin caught sight of Bryant Blackgate, the former lord was hit in the face with what looked like fish-guts by someone in the audience. It didn't appear like it was the first time either.

They took their seats and Robin swallowed hard.

"It's okay," Joseph whispered next to him. "Everyone will watch as the axe falls, so no one will see if you close your eyes… it's just important that we are all here."

"I know. I've just… I've never watched an execution, and now I'm going to have to watch six?"

"I won't pardon them," the king told them both in a low voice. "Actually, I'd rather chop their damn heads off myself, but it has to look like justice, not revenge."

"I wasn't asking you to!" Robin hissed. "They knew what they were doing, they deserve to die!"

"I'm glad you see it my way," the man nodded. "Lower your eyes if you have to, but try to not make it obvious that you're looking away."

Robin gave a curt nod and then they heard yells and booing along the main street.

"It's them," Joseph said, and yes, a moment later an open, simple cart, drawn by two donkeys came into view. In it stood the six men, clad in plain garments, which were not much better than sacks, and looked just as soft. The prisoners were being pelted by all kinds of stinking things, from rotten fish to manure and a few stones as well.

"They seem to love when the mighty fall," the blond prince said dryly. "There's not much dignity in this. Not that I'm complaining…"

"Have you ever been to an execution in Blüdhaven?" Robin asked.

"Two times," Joseph said grimly, "and trust me, they deserved it too." He didn't say any more than that, and Robin didn't prod. Instead he silently watched as the men, who had their hands bound behind their back, were lined up to one side on the platform. They looked pale. Two had piss-stains on the front of their coarse trousers, and all of them had bruises not caused by the fight or from being hit with a rock. It seemed the questioners had taken their job seriously.

"I… I'm not sure I can watch…" Robin suddenly spluttered, trembling quite badly now.

"It's going to be over soon. They tried to kill you, why do you sound so scared?" The king's voice wasn't scolding, but there was just a tiny hint of 'man up!' in it.

"Because… because I know how they feel! When the guards made me kneel in the throne room, you coming towards me with the sword in your hand, dripping with my father's blood… I… I…"

"Shhh… Robin, I'm sorry, I didn't realize…" Slade grasped his hand and squeezed it. They were sitting close enough together so he could do this without making it obvious.

"I… thought I was going to die… I _knew_ I was going to die…" Robin mumbled.

"I didn't know that still haunted you, but you can't leave now, it would look weak of you."

"I know," the prince mumbled. "I'm… I'm better now…"

"That's my brave boy. Nothing will happen quite yet," Slade told him, and he was right. First a magistrate read out the names and crimes of the accused, also announcing that they had been granted to die the honorable way by being beheaded instead of hung, and should thank their king for that privilege.

Only then was the first man led forward. He was asked if he had any last words, and the man shouted out a plea for forgiveness, which went unheeded. He was then forced to kneel and rest his neck against the block. It became fairly obvious at that point that he had shat himself, and the audience jeered at this discovery. The royal headsman grabbed his axe and stepped forward.

"What is this? As a nobleman I demand to die by the sword!" Blackgate barked from where he was waiting.

The headman looked up at the stand as to get his king's permission and Slade stood up.

"Blackgate, your house's sigil is rotting on the dung heaps as we speak. You are lucky enough not to be torn apart by horses, but I won't waste a good blade on the likes of you," he said, his voice carrying across the square and raising cheers from the crowd. The king gestured for the executioner to continue and sat down again, resuming his subtle grip on Robin's hand. The prince let him, welcomed it even, because he needed a human touch right now.

The headsman raised the axe.

Everyone fell quiet.

Robin closed his eyes.

There was a wet, crunching sound and a thud.

Cheers.

The next man was brought forward and the pattern repeated. The accused didn't know in which order they would be executed, a small bit of last torment for them. Slade had told them to let Blackgate wait for last. He needed to have just a little bit of personal vengeance.

Finally it was his turn. Robin forced himself to look this time. The others had asked for forgiveness or the spirit's protection and had all died –somewhat- dignified. The former duke, however, spat and roared, his last words being "I will be avenged!". As the guards made him kneel, Robin looked over at the opposite stands and saw Bryant's face. It didn't matter that he was a piss-ant; he was about to see his father die.

"He knew you would have to watch _your_ father die," the king, who seemed to have read Robin's mind, whispered. "He thought you would be next. He might not have been in the throne room that day, but he knew what was going to happen… and his father _was_ there, crying out for your blood. You are a good young man if you pity them, Robin, but you don't _have_ to."

At that moment the axe fell and even if Robin had changed his mind about watching, he didn't have time to look away.

* * *

The Gotham prince almost crumpled on the seat of the carriage, glad the curtains of the windows were drawn so no one could see him.

"That was the worst thing I've ever seen," Robin mumbled. "I feel sick."

"It wasn't nice, no," Joseph agreed, also looking a bit nauseous.

"You both did well. It's over, and the wedding is the day after tomorrow, so-"

"Now I feel _really_ sick," Robin muttered.

Joseph gave a short chuckle and then seemingly tried to think of ways to lighten the mood. "Well, I've seen some _other_ horrible things in my life… Like when I walked in on two of our veteran soldiers in the barn. Imagine it! Two old, scarred geezers going at it in the hay! It was horrendous! I mean, just the _sounds _they were making! It was like they were dying in agony, and-"

His father then cleared his throat, and Joseph glanced up at him and then at Robin, who was looking even paler. It took a moment for the blond to understand why, though, and then he groaned. "No, no, no, it was just that they were old and kind of ugly, you know? And I was eight, I had never seen… and… _They _were enjoying it! They were both really, _really _enjoying it, okay? It just didn't make a… good spectator sport."

Robin just looked away through a small gap in the curtain, having slid as far away from Slade on the seat as possible. Hunched up, almost hugging himself, he made a miserable picture.

Slade gave his son a level look, and the blond gave a small shrug, mouthing 'I'm sorry'. The man snorted but didn't say anything. He doubted anyone could get Robin enthusiastic about the wedding, and especially the wedding night, but he'd rather not take a crying and shaking 'bride' to bed. It was bad enough that he didn't love him.

* * *

"Robin, a moment of your time?"

The young man made an irritated noise, but nodded, and followed the king and his son to their private chambers.

All Robin wanted was to be left alone right now to process what he had witnessed, but no, of course the man wouldn't let him.

"Joey, please leave us," the man asked when they had reached the rooms.

"Yes, father," the blond looked a bit puzzled but disappeared into his own bedroom.

"I have something to show you. I'm not sure how you will feel about it, but I thought I ought to tell you before the wedding."

Robin swallowed, wondering what the man meant, but the king merely retrieved a small box from his locked desk and placed it in the young man's hands.

The prince blinked and looked up at him, wondering if the contents of such a small box could really be that horrific. Opening it, he saw two rings.

"Our wedding bands," the king explained, like Robin hadn't been able to figure that out for himself.

"Yes? What about them?" they looked very plain to the boy, not impressive at all. Did their marriage mean so little to the man so he wanted to make sure not to flaunt the fact that they were-

"They were your parent's."

"What?" Robin almost dropped the box. "How…? When…?"

"When I reburied them."

"You _stole _them?"

"They would have been taken by grave robbers if I hadn't… They were hidden under a pile of rocks when we found them, but when I reburied them it became obvious that it was a grave… It would attract a certain kind of people, I'm afraid…"

"So you just took them? You weren't already rich enough?"

"I took them for you. I didn't want to give them to you then and there… it would have been too much for you, and you didn't know much about them…"

"You could have given them to me when you gave me the letter!" Robin pointed out.

"Yes, but by then I actually had _need_ for them," the man smiled a little. "I thought you'd appreciate wearing your mother's ring-"

"My mother's?!"

"I had to have them resized, and I couldn't stretch your mother's ring enough to fit me… in fact they had to add some gold to make your father's fit, but they didn't have to make any adjustment's to yours."

"So I have a woman's hands?" Robin snorted.

"Maybe your mother had very manly hands?" Slade deadpanned as he didn't want to get into _that_ discussion. "If you don't want to use them I can order others to be made. Bigger ones too, if you prefer. I noticed the disdainful look in your eyes when your first saw them."

"It wasn't disdainful!" Robin lied. The rings looked decidedly more beautiful now.

"They were on their way to me for protection… by marrying you, I am at least protecting their only son, so I thought they wouldn't mind… but again, if you don't want to use them-"

"I do! I mean… yes. They will be a reminder…"

"Of what?"

"Of how cruel fate can be," Robin said flatly and pushed the box back into the king's hands. "If you would excuse me, I need to rest a bit… and I'll have dinner in my rooms tonight… I'm not feeling well."

"I understand. I'll see you tomorrow, Robin" Slade nodded, knowing that he needed to give the boy some space. "I expect it will be a very busy day, with all the last minute preparations…"

"Hurrah…" the prince muttered as he left.

Slade was on his way to muttering a few things on his own, but then smirked and sent for Wintergreen. When the man arrived, the king handed him a quickly scribbled list.

"I need you to do me a little favor…" he said.

The older man glance at the list and raised an eyebrow. "I am your general you know, not an errand boy."

"Oh, but this is for the benefit of the kingdom," Slade explained, the smirk returning. He pointed to an item on the list. "Let me explain a bit more about this one…"

* * *

Alfred had been fluttering around him, trying to make him comfortable, until Robin had sent the man away to finally be able to take the nap he was longing for in peace. An hour later he was back on his feet, if only just. He was served a light, early dinner, as he had barely had anything that morning. There was a knock on the door and the prince sighed. What now? Alfred went to open it and returned with General Wintergreen, holding a medium-sized basket.

"If that is one of their heads I want you to turn around and walk out of here very quickly," the prince warned him.

"Not even Slade would send you something like that for a gift," the general snorted.

"Gift?"

"Yes, the king knows that you are tired and in need of relaxation. He hopes these bath salts and other commodities will help and wishes you a good night," the man let him know. Something in his voice, and how he empathized certain words made Robin suspicious. He took the basket and inside was, as promised, bath salts, soaps, a large sponge –which was a rarity, as Robin had heard these actually grew in the ocean somehow, a bath brush with a handle so he could scrub his own back, soft wash cloths and body oil for afterwards. Robin didn't quite know why the man had sounded so… suggestive.

Wintergreen leaned forward slightly and explained in a low voice.

"I was asked to pick out the brush especially… and take extra care so that it had a nice handle." With that he bowed and left.

"Your highness? Are you alright? What did that man tell you?" a worried Alfred wanted to know as Robin hadn't moved.

"N-Nothing," the prince nervously picked among the gifts until he had covered up the brush a little. The brush which had a thick, smooth handle with the egg-shaped bulb on the end. It was as large as a small egg as well.

"Should I draw you a bath then, Sir?"

"No! Yes!... Yes, sorry. Yes." Robin was beyond flustered. There was no way he would use that thing! Not _that _way at least…

* * *

He gasped and moaned as the bulb pushed against his opening, dripping with oil. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this, despite his intentions not to, but when he had closed his eyes to go to sleep all he could think of was the executions. He had finally given up and needed a distraction. He wasn't going to let it inside, though, just massage his ring of muscles a bit, stretching it just a little. He stroked his own length as he pushed down a little more. Damn, it felt so good! He wanted more! It was so big though, bigger than the candle, so it was no way it would-

"AAAH! MMmm…" he bit his lip, afraid the guards would somehow hear him all the way to the hallway. It was inside him, and sinking deeper with every slight move of his hips, and it felt… amazing! His previous experiments had lessened the fear of having something inside of him; he knew the pleasure far outweighed the pain, and it seemed that the bigger the better… well… to a certain _extent_, because the handle was really stretching him and he was close to his limit. He was close to other things too… His hips lifted and pushed down again and again, and each time the handle pulled out a little bit and shoved back in. It wasn't quite enough, however, and he had an urge to grab it, plunging it in and out of himself, but the angle was all wrong, he couldn't reach, and then-

"Aaaah! Yes!" – it was too late.

He lay there panting, experiencing the strange sensations of his inner muscles pushing the handle almost all the way out of him. He had to pull the bulb out, though, and suddenly the feeling wasn't all that nice anymore. He wondered why it was that after he had reached his release, what he had done to get there seemed… dirty and unpleasant. He had no intention of doing it again… and yet, here he was, just a few days after making that promise the last time.

"It's a curse…" the prince muttered as he rose to clean up and hide the shameful evidence of his act.

* * *

The next morning started at dawn, and Robin felt like he hadn't been allowed to even breathe as he sat down to lunch. They had gone through what would happen during the ceremony tomorrow, there had been more fittings, more instructions, and, of course, packing. Alfred was now down to personal belongings and kept asking him if he wanted to bring this or that to Blüdhaven. His inkwell; no, he was sure they would have those in the mountain. His horse books, yes, all of them, bring an extra wagon if necessary. Robin had called for the stable master too, just to make sure Rain could come with them. The man had confirmed that, as she wasn't far along, it would be no problem at all. Riley, River and Gordon were in a packing frenzy as well.

"Ah, finally. I'm starving."

Robin looked up. "Your Majesty, I didn't know to expect you?" He was eating in his chambers and hadn't even heard the door open. On the other hand, servants were running in and out of it constantly.

"I had to get away, for a moment," Slade confessed and sank down at the table, helping himself to the generous portions of food. "Though it looks like I stumbled into another hornet's nest."

"Your Majesty, what are you doing here?!" The upset voice belonged to Alfred.

"Having lunch?" the king blinked.

"You are _not _to see your intended the day before the wedding, it's tradition!"

"It is?" the king glanced at said intended who just shrugged helplessly. "But I have seen him almost every day since the wedding was decided?"

"It is of no matter! Out! Out with you! I told Bobbins to keep you busy!"

"He drove me here, that's what he did. You could have told me about this weird custom instead, perhaps?"

"How am I supposed to know you don't honor this ancient one?" the old valet sniffed, and as Robin was half bent over with laughter, he chased the monarch from the room. The last thing Slade did was steal a piece of bread from Robin's plate and give him a smirk as he popped it in his mouth.

* * *

The rest of the day was as much of a blur, but when early evening arrived, Alfred drew him a bath again and spent plenty of time washing his hair and back. Once the prince was in bed, clad in a fresh night shirt, the old valet hesitated.

"Your Highness, sometimes parents talk with their children the night before the wedding, in case they have any… questions…?"

Robin felt as embarrassed as the old man looked, but shook his head vigorously. "I- I don't have any, thank you Alfred," he claimed.

"Oh... good… Because to be truthful, I don't think I could have answered them," the valet sighed, making the prince chuckle. "But on a serious note… I might not know the details, young Sir, but… I really think he will do his best not to harm you in any way."

"You do?"

"Do you have reasons to think that he won't?" the old man countered.

Robin hesitated, but then shook his head.

"Well then," the valet said like everything was settled. "We both know that His Majesty tends to achieve what he sets out to do… so don't worry."

Robin just gave a soft snort that might mean anything.

The valet turned out the lights and then stopped again in the door. "Sleep well, Your Highness, and… give him a chance to make you happy? Who knows, he might succeed at that too."

A few minutes later Robin was still sitting up in bed, staring out into the room which was bathed in the light from the dying fire. This was the last night he would sleep in his bed. The last night in this room, the room he had grown up in. He was sure he had had a nursery or something when he first arrived at the castle, but he didn't remember any other room that this. The four poster bed had been a gift on his tenth birthday, but the dresser and the rest of the furniture were older than that. He supposed someone else would occupy these rooms eventually, once they were demoted from royal lodgings… It felt strange and empty to leave it all, and it was just his _rooms_… In a few days he would be leaving his _country_. Everything he had ever known. He wouldn't even be able to see the _ocean_ from Blüdhaven… The idea of that seemed rather ridiculous to him; you _always _saw the ocean! Sure, not from places like the hunting lodge, but at least it wasn't more than a day's ride away from there… From Blüdhaven it would be a week at the least. It seemed almost impossible.

He sighed and laid back, realizing something else; this was the last night he would sleep alone. Tomorrow night the king would lie next to him. It wouldn't be for the first time, true, but it would be for the rest of their lives… It_ would_ be the first time it was the man's _right_ to share his bed, not just a_ privilege_… Though it wouldn't be _Robin's_ bed; it would be _his_… He was to share_ the king's_ bed, not the other way around.

The prince curled up a bit under the covers. Tomorrow was the day to be strong and confident; show the world the perfect mask of a young man who celebrated the best day of his life… Who did his duty. But tonight he wept.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

_A/N: _SO… just a spoilt brat or a young man who is really anxious about his future? I'll let you decide… Next week is the wedding, and YES that includes the wedding night! I made sure to keep the preparations short enough to be able to fit it in, or I have a feeling you'd hate me… ;)

I'm not sure how many more chapters there will be, most likely less than ten. I know a few things I want to do, but then I mainly have to find a good place to stop… ;)


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